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y/t/eA/tJ    7& 


STORIES  FOR  ADELAIDE 


SECOND  SERIES  OF  EASY  READING  LESSONS, 


WITH    DIVIDED    SYLLABLES. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OP 


"  Stories  for  Emma"  "  Young  Americans" 
"  Mirror"  fyc. 


SIX     PLATES. 


PHILADELPHIA  \ 

THOMAS  T.  ASH— CHESNUT  STREET. 

Adarii  Waldie,  Printer 

Library,  Univ.  af 
Nonh  C&*olin« 


ADELAIDE    LESLIE, 

AGED  FIVE  YEARS, 

THE  FOLLOWING  LITTLE  BOOK  IS  AFFECTIONATELY 
INSCRIBED  BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


Philadelphia,  September,  1829. 


no 


CONTENTS. 


The  Fawn, 

The  Monkey, 

The  Sun-bonnet, 

The  Mischievous  Boy, 

The  Pet  Calf, 

The  Listener 

The  Four  Little  Dogs, 

The  Young  Cheat,      - 

The  Cranberry  Tarts, 


THE    FAWN. 


Ed-mund  Or-well  and  his  sis-ter  Cla- 
ra were  on  a  vis-it  at  their  un-cle  Hay- 
don's,  who  liv-ed  in  a  ve-ry  re-mote 
part  of  the  coun-try,  on  a  large  farm. 
The  child-ren  (who  had  nev-er  be-fore 
been  at  a-ny  place  so  far  from  the  cit-y) 
were  de-light-ed  to  play  in  the  mea- 
dows and  orch-ard,  and  to  climb  the 
rocks,  and  to  ram-ble  through  the 
woods,  in  com-pany  with  their  cou-sin 
Phil-ip  Hay-don,  who  was  a  lit-tle  old- 
er than  Ed-mund. 

One  day  they  heard  their  aunt  say, 
that  she  want-ed  some  fox  grapes  to 
make  jel-ly,  and  they  re-col-lect-ed 
hav-ing  seen  a  great  ma-ny  in  the 
woods  about  two  miles  off.     They  of- 

2 


THE    FAWN. 


fer-ed  to  go  and  gath-er  a  large  quan- 
tity for  her ;  and  as  the  bas-kets  would 
be  too  hea-vy  for  them  to  car-ry  so  far, 
their  un-cle  said  he  would  let  them  take 
the  dear-born  when  they  went  for  the 
grapes. 

Phil-ip  al-lowr-ed  Ed-mund  to  help 
him  har-ness  the  horse,  and  lift-ing  Cla- 
ra in-to  the  back  seat  of  the  dear-born, 
with  a  pile  of  bas-kets  be-fore  her,  the 
boys  pla-ced  them-selves  on  the  bench 
in  front,  and  they  set  off  in  high  spir-its, 
Edmund  dri-ving  while  in  the  o-pen 
road,  and  Thil-ip  af-ter  they  got  in-to 
the  woods. 

They  soon  came  to  the  place  where 
they  had  seen  the  fox  grapes  so  a-bun- 
dant.  It  was  a  sort  of  o-pen-ing  in  the 
fo-rest,  where  the  sur-round-ing  trees 
were  com-plete-ly  cov-er-ed  with  vines 
that  as-cend-ed  to  their  high-est  branch- 
es, and  al-so  ran  a-long  the  ground,  so 
as  to  form  a  close  thick-et.     These 


THE    FAWN. 


vines  were  load-ed  with  large  bunch-es 
of  fine  ripe  pur-ple  grapes,  in  such  pro- 
fu-sion,  that  bar-rels  full  might  have 
been  gath-er-ed  there. 

The  chil-dren  got  out  of  the  dear- 
born, and  pro-ceed-ed  in-dus-tri-ous-ly 
to  the  bu-si-ness  of  pluck-ing  the  grapes, 
and  fill-ing  the  bas-kets  with  them.  It 
must,  how-ev-er,  be  sup-pos-ed  that 
they  ate  some  as  they  went  on. 

They  were  talk-ing  and  laugh-ing  ve- 
ry mer-ri-ly,  when  they  saw  the  vines 
that  were  low  on  the  ground  be-gin  to 
move.  Cla-ra  scream-ed  out  that  a 
pan-ther  must  be  hid-den  un-der  them; 
and  the  boys,  to  keep  her  safe,  put  her 
in-to  the  dear-born,  till  they  could  dis- 
cov-er  what  it  real-ly  was.  Each  then 
arm-ed  him-self  with  a  large  stick  bro- 
ken from  the  branch  of  an  old  tree  that 
lay  on  the  ground,  and  ad-vanc-ed  to 
the  place  where  they  had  seen  the  sha- 
king of  the  vine  leaves.  Cla-ra  was  ve- 


THE    FAWN. 


ry  much  fright-en-ed,  and  scream-ed 
to  the  boys  to  let  the  pan-ther  a-lone, 
and  to  jump  into  the  dear-born  and  drive 
home. 

The  boys,  how-ever,  would  not  lis-ten 
to  her;  and  pre-sent-ly  the  in-no-cent 
head  of  a  lit-tle  fawn  came  out  from  a- 
mong  the  vine  leaves. 

"  There,  Cla-ra,"  ex-claim-ed  Phil-ip, 
"  there  is  the  ob-ject  of  ter-ror.  On-ly 
a  pret-ty  lit-tle  fawn,  that  1  sup-pose  has 
stray-ed  a-way  from  its  mo-ther." 

Cla-ra  im-me-di-ate-ly  jump-ed  out 
of  the  dear-born  to  look  at  the  fawn, 
and  found  it  en-tan-gled  in  the  twist-ing 
vine  branch-es. 

"Oh!  Phil-ip!  Oh!  Ed-mund !"  said 
she,  "  do  let  us  take  this  dear  sweet 
crea-ture  home.  We  shall  have  no 
trou-ble  in  catch-ing  it,  for  the  branch- 
es are  hold-ing  it  fast  for  us.  What  a 
charm-ing  play-thing  it  will  be.  Oh! 
how  I  love  it  aj-rea-dy !" 


THE    FAWN. 


Ed-mund  was  de-light-ed  at  the  i-de-a 
of  car-ry-ing  the  fawn  home  with  them, 
and  wanted  to  take  hold  of  it.  The 
poor  thing  was  ve-ry  much  fright- 
en-ed,  and  trem-bled  all  o-ver.  Phil-ip 
then  said  that  he  thought  it  bet-ter  to 
leave  the  fawn  where  it  was,  that  the 
moth-er  could  not  be  ve-ry  far  off,  and 
that  the  lit-tle  an-i-mal  would  be  much 
hap-pi-er  to  con-tin-ue  to  run  through 
the  woods  at  its  lib-er-ty.  But  Cla-ra 
could  not  give  up  the  plea-sure  of  hav- 
ing so  pret-ty  a  pet,  and  Ed-mund  al-so 
thought  that  he  should  like  ve-ry  much 
to  play  with  it.  He  pro-po-sed  that 
Cla-ra  should  take  the  fawn  in-to  the 
dear-born,  and  hold  it  there  while  he 
and  Phil-ip  fin-ish-ed  gath-er-ing  the 
fox  grapes.  The  fawn  strug-gled  so  to 
get  loose,  that  Cla-ra's  strength  could 
not  hold  out,  and  Ed-mund  then  took 
charge  of  the  poor  ter-ri-ii-ed  lit-tle  an- 
i-mal,  hav-ing  first  ti-ed  its  legs  to-geth- 

2* 


10  THE    FAWN. 

er  with  some  long  grass,  which  he 
twist-ed  in  strings  for  the  purpose. 
Cla-ra  then  quit-ted  the  dear-born,  and 
took  her  bro-ther's  place  at  the  grape 
vines. 

All  the  baskets  were  soon  fil-led,  and 
the  chil-dren  set  off  Jo  go  home;  but 
when  they  were  near-ly  in  sight  of  the 
house,  Cla-ra  a-gain  took  the  fawn  that 
she  might  be  seen  ri-ding  up  the  lane 
with  her  new  pet  in  her  arms.  As  soon  as 
they  ar-ri-ved  at  the  front  gate,Ed-mund 
and  Cla-ra  began  both  to-geth-er  to 
tell  of  their  ad-ven-ture ;  but  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hay-don  said,  they  a-greed 
with  Phil-ip  in  think-ing  that  the  fawn 
had  bet-ter  have  been  left  in  the  woods, 
and  allowed  to  re-main  at  lib-er-ty.  But 
Ed-mund  and  Cla-ra  were  of  o-pin-ion 
that  it  could  not  be  more  hap-py  in  the 
woods  than  they  would  make  it. 

Cla-ra  car-ri-ed  it  in-to  her  cham-ber 
and  got  a  bowl  of  milk  for  it,  but  the 


THE  FAWN.  1  1 

poor  fawn  was  too  fright-en-ed  to  eat, 
and  hid  it-self  un-der  the  bed,  where  it 
lay  tremb-ling.  At  din-ner,  she  ate  but 
two  mouth-fuls  of  her  peach-pie,  and  on 
her  aunt  ask-ing  her  the  rea-son,  she 
said  she  was  go-ing  to  save  her  piece 
for  the  fawn.  Mrs.  Hay-don  prais-ed 
her  lit-tle  niece's  gen-e-ros-i-ty,  but 
told  her  the  fawn  would  not  eat  pie, 
and  that  wild  an-i-mals  on-ly  re-lish-ed 
such  food  as  was  na-tu-ral  to  them. 
"When-ev-er  he  is  wil-ling  to  eat  pie," 
con-tin-u-ed  Mrs.  Hay-don,  "  I  assure 
you  that  he  shall  have  as  much  as  he 
wants  with-out  your  share  be-ing  sa-ved 
for  him." 

The  fawn  was  ve-ry  rest-less  all  day, 
but  to-wards  eve-ning  be-ing  quite  hun- 
gry, he  ate  some  fox  grapes  and  lap-ped 
some  milk,  to  the  great  joy  of  Cla-ra, 
who  was  afraid  he  would  starve.  She 
in-sis-ted  on  hav-ing  him  to  sleep  in  her 
room  that  night,  and  she  made  him  up 


THE    FAWN. 


a  lit-tle  bed  out  of  her  clothes-bag  and 
the  things  that  were  in  it.  But  the 
fawn  would  not  stay  on  the  bed,  though 
Cla-ra  put  him  down  on  it,  at  least  ten 
times;  and  he  boun-ced  a-bout  the  room, 
and  tried  so  of-ten  to  get  out  of  the 
win-dow  that  she  was  kept  a-wake  by 
him  near-ly  all  night.  When  she  fell 
a-sleep  a-bout  day-light,  he  rou-sed  her 
by  pranc-ing  o-ver  her  bed,  but  she 
thought  e-ve-ry  thing  that  he  did  was 
charm-ing. 

In  the  morn-ing,  the  boys  got  some 
old  boards,  and  made  a  house  for  the 
fawn  un-der  the  shade  of  a  large  plumb- 
tree  in  the  gar-den;  and  for  fear  that  he 
should  es-cape,  they  tied  him  to  the 
tree  by  a  long  cord.  Ed-mund  and 
Cla-ra  were  con-tin-u-al-ly  feast-ing 
him  with  all  sorts  of  dain-ties,  most  of 
which  he  re-ject-ed  at  first,  but  learnt 
to  eat  at  last.  Yet  the  fawn,  though  he 
was  ve-ry  well  fed,  and  very  much  kiss- 


THE    FAWN.  13 

ed  and  pat-ted,  and  drest  every  day 
with  flowers,  did  not  seem  hap-py;  and 
Phil-ip  often  urged  his  cou-sins  to  let 
the  poor  lit-tle  an-i-mal  be  car-ri-ed 
back  to  the  place  in  the  woods  where 
they  had  found  him.  But  Ed-mund 
and  Cla-ra  could  not  think  of  giv-ing  up 
their  pet. 


One  day  Ed-mund  came  home  from 
the  woods  car-ry-ing  a  large  green 
branch  fil-led  with  red  ber-ries.  "Here 
Cla-ra,"  said  he,  "  see  what  I  have 
brought  for  the  fawn.  I  found  them  on 
a  bush  a-bout  half  a  mile  off.  On-ly  a 
few  of  them  are  ripe,  and  I  have  not 
ta-sted  a  sin-gle  one,  that  there  may  be 
the  more  for  him."  "  Neith-er  will  I  taste 
them,"  said  Cla-ra.  "  They  look  beau- 
ti-ful,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  like  them  ; 
so  he  shall  have  them  all  to  him-self." 

They  then  of-fer-ed  the  branch  of 
berr-ies  to  the  fawn,  who  turn-ed  a-way 


14  THE    FAWN. 

in  great  ap-pa-rent  dis-gust.  "  Why  he 
will  not  touch  them,"  ex-claim-ed  Cla-ra. 
"  Oh !"  said  Ed-mund,  «  per-haps  that 
is  be-cause  he  has  nev-er  eat-en  a-ny 
be-fore.  You  know  how  ma-ny  things 
that  he  dis-liked  at  first  we  have  taught 
him  to  eat  quite  read-i-ly.  Let  us  see 
if  we  can-not  get  him  to  taste  them.  Do 
not  you  know  that  when  you  were  a  ve-ry 
lit-tle  girl  you  would  not  eat  oys-ters,  but 
my  fath-er  in-sist-ed  on  your  trying  to 
conquer  your  a-ver-sion  to  them,  and 
now  there  is  noth-ing  you  like  bet-ter. 
So,  we  will  make  the  fawn  eat  these 
beau-ti-ful  red  ber-ries." 

Ac-cord-ing-ly,  Ed-mund  held  the 
fawn,  while  Cla-ra  for-ced  the  ber-ries 
into  its  mouth,  and  after  a-while  the 
fawn  swal-low-ed  them,  though  very  re- 
luc-tant-ly. 

After  they  had  thus  fed  their  dar-ling, 
they  were  cal-led  in  to  tea;  and  when 
they  went  after-wards  to  car-ry  him  his 


THE    FAWN.  15 

sup-per  of  milk  and  su-gar,  what  was 
their  as-ton-ish-ment  to  find  the  poor 
an-i-mal,  ex-tend-ed  on  the  ground, 
stretch-ed  half-way  out  of  his  house, 
and  sha-king  all  o-ver;  his  eyes  rol-ling, 
his  mouth  gasp-ing,  and  ut-ter-ing  the 
most  pit-e-ous  cries. 

Cla-ra  scream-ed  out,  "  Oh  my  fawn 
— my  dear  dar-ling  fawn — what  can  ail 
him?"  And  Ed-mund  said,  "  I  am 
afraid  he  is  go-ing  to  die.  Let  us  run 
and  ask  my  un-cle  what  had  best  be 
done  for  him." 

All  the  fam-i-ly  were  soon  as-sem-bled 
be-fore  the  house  of  the  fawn,  and  Mr. 
Hay-don  said  im-me-di-ate-ly,  that  the 
poor  fawn  had  been  pois-on-ed.  "  Oh," 
ex-claim-ed  Cla-ra,  "  who  could  have 
been  so  wick-ed  as  to  poi-son  him? 
Ed-mund  and  I  nev-er  al-low  a-ny  bo-dy 
to  feed  him  but  our-selves.  I  am  sure  he 
has  had  noth-ing  since  his  din-ner,  but 
these  pret-ty  red  ber-ries,"  ta-king  up 


16  THE    FAWN. 

the  branch  which  lay  on  the  ground. 
"Ah,"  said  Phil-ip,  "that  is  the  very  thing. 
Those  ber-ries  are  a  most  dead-ly  poi- 
son; and  noth-ing  now  can  save  him." 
Just  as  Phil-ip  spoke,  the  poor  fawn 
stretch-ed  him-self  out,  and  died. 


Cla-ra  cried  bit-ter-ly,  and  Ed-mund 
al-so.  "  Oh,"  said  he,  "  I  wish  we  had 
nev-er  brought  a-way  the  fawn.  If  we 
had  left  him  in  the  woods  where  we 
found  him,  he  would  have  been  a-live 
now,  and  would  have  grown  up  in-to  a 
fine  deer." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Hay-don,  "  and  be-fore 
you  had  giv-en  him  the  ber-ries,  if  you  had 
ta-kenthe  trou-ble  to  in-quire  what  they 
were,  any  one  in  the  house  could  have 
told  you  that  they  were  poi-son-ous.  I 
hope  nei-ther  you  nor  your  sis-ter  ta-sted 
them."  "Oh!  no,  no,"  cried  Cla-ra, 
"  we  kept  every  one  for  the  dear  fawn." 

"  Now,"  said  Ed-mund,  I  am  de-ter- 


THE    FAWN.  17 

min-ed  when  I  go  to  town  a-gain,  to 
read  as  ma-ny  books  as  I  can  get,  upon 
the  na-ture  of  plants  and  an-i-mals." 

"  And  I,"  said  Cla-ra,  "  will  al-ways 
in  fu-ture,  lis-ten  at-ten-tive-ly  when  I 
hear  grown  per-sons  talk-ing  on  those 
sub-jects." 

u  You  will  then  learn,"  said  Mr.  Hay- 
don,  "  that  no  wild  an-i-mals  are  hap- 
py when  kept  in  a  state  of  con-fine- 
ment,  and  that  when  left  tothem-selves 
they  can  al-ways  judge  what  food  is 
good,  or  what  is  bad  for  them." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Cla-ra,  sob-bing, 
"  the  poor  dear  fawn  was  ve-ry  un-wil- 
ling  to  eat  the  ber-ries." 

"  Had  he  re-main-ed  in  his  na-tive 
woods,"  said  Mr.  Hay-don,  "  he  ne-ver 
would  have  touch-ed  them,  and  he 
might  now  have  been  a-live  and  well. 
Let  this  be  a  les-son  for  you.  Nev-er 
a-gain,  for  the  plea-sure  of  hav-ing  a 
pet,  de-prive  a  wild  an-i-mal  of  its 
3 


18  THE    FAWN. 

lib-er-ty,  and  force  up-on  him  food  which 
is  con-tra-ry  to  his  taste  and  hab-its. 
No  mat-ter  how  care-ful-ly  you  try  to 
tame  them,  they  still  pre-fer  do-ing 
what  is  most  nat-ur-al.  If  you  catch 
a  wood-peck-er  and  shut  him  up  in 
a  room,  he  will  be  con-stant-ly  peck- 
ing at  the  legs  of  the  ta-bles  and  the 
backs  of  the  chairs,  just  as  he  peck-ed 
at  the  bark  of  the  trees,  when  he  liv-ed 
in  the  forest.  And  a  young  bea-ver 
con-fi-ned  in  a  yard  has  been  known  to 
spend  the  whole  night  in  ta-king  down 
sticks  of  wood  from  the  pile,  and  lay-ing 
them  across  each  oth-er,  as  they  do 
when  build-ing  their  houses." 

After  the  grief  of  the  chil-dren  had 
be-come  a  lit-tle  more  com-po-sed, 
they  pro-ceed-ed  to  bu-ry  the  poor  fawn 
un-der  a  young  lo-cust  tree  in  a  field 
be-hind  the  house.  Ed-mund  dug  the 
grave  ac-cord-ing  to  the  di-rec-tions  of 
Phil-ip,  and  the  dead  fawn  be-ing  put 


THE  MONKEY.  27 

nel  came  in,  and  hav-ing  paid  his  res- 
pects to  Mrs.  Man-ton,  he  took  from 
his  waist-coat  pock-et  a  small  pa-per, 
and  put-ting  it  in-to  Ma-ri-a's  hand,  he 
said,  "  There,  Ma-ri-a,  is  an-oth-er 
smel-ling  bot-tle,  which  I  have  just 
bought  to  re-place  the  one  be-long-ing 
to  your  gold  chain,  which  I  was  so  un- 
luck-y  as  to  break  last  night  at  blind- 
man's  buff." 

Ma-ri-a's  face  be-came  crim-sonwith 
shame,  and  then  she  turn-ed  pale  with 
fright.  Her  hand  trem-bled  so  that  she 
had  to  Jay  the  paper  on  the  table,  not 
da-ring  to  o-pen  it,  and  she  was  un-a- 
ble  to  speak  a  word. 

"  Had  Ma-ri-a  that  gold  chain  on 
her  neck  last  e-ve-ning?"  said  Mrs. 
Man-ton,  pointing  to  the  mon-key,  who 
hav-ing  ta-ken  a  piece  of  toast  off  the 
ta-ble  sat  eat-ing  it  in  a  cor-ner.  "  I  be- 
lieve she  did  wear  that  chain,"  re-plied 
Mr.  Cor-nel;  and  see-ing  that  there  was 


28  THE  MONKEY. 

some-thing  wrong,  he  im-me-di-ate-ly 
took  his  leave. 

Ma-ri-a  sat  in  si-lent  con-fu-sion,  de- 
tect-ed  in  a  dou-ble  fault;  first  hav-ing 
se-cret-ly  ta-ken  her  moth-er's  chain, 
and  then  false-ly  bla-ming  it  on  the 
mon-key. 

Her  moth-er  was  much  griev-ed  and 
dis-pleased,  and  said  to  her,  "  Now 
Ma-ria,  I  hope  you  are  con-vin-ced  that 
bad  ac-tions  are  al-ways  dis-cov-er-ed. 
I  had  in-ten-ded  giv-ing  that  chain  to 
you  when  you  were  old  e-nough  to  wear 
it  with  pro-pri-e-ty ;  but  now  you  shall 
nev-er  have  it.  I  will  send  the  mon-key 
to  the  mu-se-um,  that  in  fu-ture,  when 
you  do  wrong,  you  may  not  have  it  in 
your  pow-er  to  lay  the  blame  on 
him." 

Ma-ri-a  cri-ed  ve-rymuch;  and  for 
sev-e-ral  days  was  ash-a-medx  to  look 
her  moth-er  in  the  face. 

The  mon-key,  be  -ing  of  a  ver-y  cu- 


THE     SUN-BONNET.  29 

ri-ous  sort,  was  glad-ly  re-ceiv-ed  at  the 
mu-se-um,  where  they  took  ve-ry  good 
care  of  him. 

Ma-ri-a,  who  was  re-al-ly  ve-ry  pe-ni- 
tent,  con-fess-ed  to  her  moth-er  that 
she  had  of-ten  be-fore  done  mis-chief, 
and  al-low-ed  the  mon-key  to  be  bla-med 
for  it.  Her  moth-er  at  last  for-gave  her, 
and  Ma-ri-a  nev-er  a-gain  de-ceiv-ed 
her,  or  told  an  un-truth. 


THE   SUN-BONNET. 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lew-son  took  lodg-ings 
at  a  ho-tel  on  the  sea-shore  with  the 
in-ten-tion  of  spend-ing  a  few  weeks 
there  du-ringthe  warm  weath-er.  -Their 
lit-tle  daugh-ter  E-li-za  ex-pect-ed  to 
have  much  plea-sure  in  walk-ing  on  the 


- 

30  THE  SUN-BONNET. 

beach  and  look-ing  at  the  sea,  and  in 
pick-ing  up  shells  and  sea-weed  which 
are  thrown  on  shore  by  the  waves  that 
are  al-ways  dash-ing  o-ver  the  edge  of 
the  sand. 

Mrs.  Lew-son  had  made  E-li-za  a 
ver-y  pret-ty  sun-bon-net  of  pink  ging- 
ham, with  a  wire  sew-ed  round  the 
front  and  slips  of  cane  run  in  the  ca-ses 
to  keep  it  in  shape,  and  a  large  cape 
to  cov-er  her  neck  and  should-ers. 
E-li-za  thought  this  bon-net,  which 
sha-ded  her  face  and  sat  stead-y  on  her 
head,  far  more  con-ve-nient  than  her 
leg-horn  hat,  which  did  not  keep  the 
sun  from  her  eyes,  and  which  was  con- 
tin-u-al-ly  flap-ping  up  and  down  in  the 
wind. 

The  morn-ing  af-ter  their  ar-ri-val  at 
the  sea-shore,  Mrs.  Lew-son  and  E-liza 
went  to  the  place  where  the  la-dies 
bath-ed,  and  put-ting  on  their  flan-nel 
gowns  and  oil-ed  silk  caps,  they  went 


THE   SUN-BONNET.  31 

in-to  the  wat-er,  and  en-joy-ed  its  cool- 
ness ve-ry  much.  Then,  hav-ing  drest 
them-selves  a-gain  in  their  u-su-al 
clothes,  they  walk-ed  for  an  hour  on  the 
sands,  and  pick-ed  up  some  very  cu-ri- 
ous  shells  and  bunch-es  of  sea-weed, 
which  E-li-za  put  in-to  a  lit-tle  bas-ket 
she  had  brought  for  the  pur-pose.  They 
saw  sev-e-ral  ships  pass-ing  by,  which 
look-ed  beau-ti-ful  when  the  sun  shone 
on  their  white  sails,  and  they  al-so  saw 
a  num-ber  of  schoon-ers,  sloops,  and 
fish-ing  boats. 

There  were  sev-e-ral  other  lit-tle 
girls  stay-ing  with  their  pa-rents  at  the 
same  hotel;  but  none  of  them  had  sun- 
bon-nets  like  E-li-za  Lew-son.  Al-most 
all  of  them  wore  leg-horn  hats,  and  one 
na-med  Hel-en  Hart-ley  had  a  hat  of 
blue  silk,  trim-med  with  white  flow-er^ 
and  gauze  rib-bon.  It  look-ed  just  lik/ 
i  la-dy's  hat,  and  the  brim  stood  out 
ound,  so  thatneith-er  her  face  nor  ne< 


32  THE  SUN-BONNET. 

were  the  least  sha-ded.  This  hat  was 
so  el-e-gant  and  cost-ly,  that  Hel-en 
was  gen-e-ral-ly  a-fraid  to  wear  it,  lest 
it  should  be  fa-ded  by  the  sun  or  bro- 
ken by  the  wind.  And  if  the  day  was 
the  least  clou-dy  she  did  not  go  out  at 
all,  fear-ing  that  it  might  rain  and  wet 
her  fine  hat  be-fore  she  could  get  back 
to  the  house. 

There  was  a  place  on  the  beach 
where  the  sea-wat-er  ran  up  in-to  the 
land,  and  form-ed  a  sort  of  pool.  The 
chil-dren  de-light-ed  to  play  a-bout  this 
pool,  and  the  boys  made  lit-tle  boats 
and  sail-ed  them  on  it.  Sev-e-ral  of  the 
girls  were  one  day  stand-ing  by  the 
pond  as  they  call-ed  it,  and  look-ing 
down  at  the  lit-tle  crabs  that  were 
walk-ing  a-bout  on  the  hard  sand  at  the 
bot-tom  of  the  wat-er,  which  was  ver-y 
clear  and  smooth,  when  E-li-za  ob-serv- 
ed  the  shad-ows  of  her-self  and  her 
3om-pan-ions  re-flect-ed  on  the  calm 


THE  SUN- BONNET.  33 

sur-face  as  in  a  look-ing  glass,  and  she 
thought  she  did  not  look  half  so  well 
in  her  sun-bon-net  as  they  did  in  their 
hats. 


In  the  af-ter-noon  some  of  the  com- 
pa-ny  were  go-ing  to  a  place  a-bout  a 
mile  from  the  ho-tel,  to  see  the  fish-er- 
men  catch-ing  clams.  Mrs.  Le-wson, 
hav-ing  pre-pa-red  her-self  for  the  walk, 
cal-led  E-li-za  in-to  her  room,  and  was 
go-ing  to  put  on  the  lit-tle  girl's  sun-bon- 
net as  u-su-al;  but  E-li-za  drew  back  and 
said,  "Moth-er,  I  do  not  wish  to  wear  my 
sun-bon-net;  it  does  not  look  pret-ty.  I 
would  rath-er  wear  my  leg-horn  hat, 
like  the  oth-er  lit-tle  girls."  "  No," 
said  Mrs.  Lew-son,  "  the  sun-bon-net 
is  much  more  con-ve-ni-ent  and  pleas- 
ant. The  sun  is  ver-y  bright  to-day, 
and  there  is  al-so  a  breeze.  Your  sun- 
bon-net  is  pret-ty  e-nough,  and  e-ven  if 
it  was  not,  I  wish  you  to  wear  it,  as  I 

4* 


34  THE    SUN-BONNET. 

know  you  will  en-joy  your  walk  more 
than  you  will  if  you  put  on  your  leg-horn 
hat." 

"  But  I  do  not  like  a  sun-bon-net 
e-ven  if  it  is  a  pret-ty  one,"  said  E-li-za, 
pout-ing  her  lips  and  look-ingnaugh-ty, 
"  none  of  the  oth-er  lit-tle  girls  wear 
them,  and  I  am  sure  they  all  look  bet- 
ter in  their  hats  than  I  do  in  this  bon- 
net. Hel-en  Hart-ley's  blue  silk  hat, 
with  flow-ers  and  gauze  bows,  is  beau- 
ti-ful:  I  wish  I  had  one  like  it.  I  will  not 
wear  my  sun-bon-net.  I  hate  it  and  I 
des-pise  it" — and  she  be-gan  to  cry,  and 
stamp  with  her  feet. 

"  Since  you  are  so  naugh-ty,"  said 
Mrs.  Lew-son,  "  I  shall  not  per-mit  you 
to  go  out  at  all."  "  I  would  rath-er  stay 
at  home  all  my  life,"  cried  E-li-za, "  than 
wear  that  hor-rid  sun-bon-net."  "Then," 
re-pli-ed  Mrs.  Lew-son, "  I  will  not  al-low 
you  to  wear  your  hat  eith-er  to-day  or  a-ny 
oth-er  day  as  long  as  we  re-main  at  the 


THE  SUN-BONNET.  35 

sea-shore;  and  to  pun-ish  you  for  cry-ing 
and  stamp-ing  and  talk-ing  so  im-prop- 
er-ly,  you  shall  stay  at  home  shut  up  in 
this  room,  in-stead  of  go-ing  with  us  to 
see  the  men  catch  clams." 

E-li-za  then  be-gan  to  scream  loud-ly, 
but  her  moth-er  si-lent-ly  put  a- way  the 
sun-bon-net  in  its  band-box,  and  left  the 
room,lock-ing  the  door,  andta-king  the 
key  with  her. 

E-li-za  went  to  the  win-dow  cry-ing 
bit-ter-ly;  and  asshe  look-ed  out,  she  saw 
her  fath-er  and  moth-er  set  out  on  their 
walk,  with  all  the  chil-dren  and  sev-e- 
ral  of  their  pa-rents.  She  then  re-pent- 
ed  of  her  naugh-ti-ness,  and  felt  now  as 
if  she  would  glad-ly  be  with  them,  e-ven 
if  she  was  ob-li-ged  to  wear  an  old  rag 
on  her  head.  She  ob-serv-ed  that  the 
hats  of  the  lit-tle  girls  were  flap-ping 
and  twist-ing  in  the  wind,  so  that  they 
could  scarce-ly  keep  them  on  their 
heads;  that  the  sun  wasshi-ning  di-rect- 


36  THE    SUN-BONNET. 

ly  in  their  fa-ces  and  daz-zling  their  eyes 
so  that  they  were  full  of  wat-er ;  and 
that  those  who  had  par-a-sols  were 
ob-li-ged  to  put  them  down,  as  the  breeze 
al-most  blew  them  out  of  their  hands. 

She  then  saw  how  much  bet-ter  it 
would  have  been  for  them  to  have  had 
sun-bon-nets,  and  she  would  now  have 
been  very  glad  to  wear  hers,  if  she 
could  ac-com-pa-ny  the  par-ty.  But 
she  was  ob-li-ged  to  re-main  all  the 
af-ter-noon  a-lone,  shut  up  in  the  cham- 
ber; for  which  she  was  ver-y  sor-ry,  and 
she  de-ter-min-ed  nev-er  to  be  so  naugh- 
ty a-gain. 

Tow-ards  eve-ning,  the  whole  par-ty 
came  home;  and  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Lew- 
son  en-ter-ed  the  room,  E-li-za  ran  to 
her,  and  kiss-ing  her  hand  ex-claim-ed, 
"Oh!  my  dear  moth-er,  I  am  now 
quite  sure  that  you  were  right  in  in-sist- 
ing  on  my  wear-ing  my  sun-bon-net.  I 
will  nev-er  a-gain  re-fuse  to  put  it  on.   I 


THE    SUN-BONNET.  37 

wish  I  had  not  been  so  fool-ish  and  so 
naugh-ty.  Do,  pray,  be  so  kind  as  to 
for-give  me."  Mrs.  Lew-son  think-ing 
E-li-za  had  been  suf-fi-ci-ent-ly  pun-ish- 
ed,  now  made  her  hap-py  by  kiss-ing 
and  par-don-ing  her. 

She  told  E-li-za  that  Hel-en  Hart- 
ley's beau-ti-ful  blue  silk  hat  with  the 
flow-ers  and  gauze  rib-bon,  had  been 
blown  off  her  head  in-to  the  sea,  and 
that  one  of  the  clam-fish-ers  had  taken 
it  out  with  his  tongs,  but  that  it  was 
to-tal-ly  spoil-ed  and  could  nev-er  be 
worn  a-gain,  and  that  Hel-en  had 
been  o-bli-ged  to  walk  home  with 
her  moth-er's  pock-et  hand-ker-chief 
tied  o-ver  her  head,  car-ry-ing  the  poor 
wet,  bro-ken  hat  in  her  hand.  "  Now, 
E-li-za,"  said  Mrs.  Lewson,  "  if  your 
ging-ham  sun-bon-net  was  to  meet  with 
such  an  ac-ci-dent,  it  could  ea-si-ly  be 
ta-ken  to  pie-ces,  wash-ed  and  i-ron-ed, 


38  THE  SUN-BON-NET. 

and  put  to-geth-er  a-gain;  and  it  would 
then  look  as  well  as  ever." 

From  that  time,  E-li-za  Lew-son  al- 
ways took  pleas-ure  in  wear-ing  her 
sun-bon-net.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
days  sev-e-ral  of  the  oth-er  la-dies,  find- 
ing that  their  chil-dren  had  be-come 
freck-led  and  tan-ned  from  hav-ing 
their  fa-ces  ex-pos-ed  by  their  hats  to 
the  sun  and  wind,  made  sun-bon-nets 
for  the  lit-tle  girls.  None  of  these  bon- 
nets, how-ever,  were  so  pret-ty  as  E-li- 
za's;  and  Hel-en  Hart-ley,  till  hers  was 
made,  had  to  wear  one  pin-ned  up  out 
of  coarse  brown  pa-per. 


THE 


MISCHIEVOUS    BOY. 


George  Graf-ton  was  a  boy  wh  ose 
great-est  de-light  was  in  do-ing  mis- 
chief, and  in  fright-en-ing  and  an-noy- 
ing  his  three  sis-ters,  who  were  so  good 
na-tu-red  that  they  did  not  corn-plain 
of  him  to  his  pa-rents  lest  he  should  be 
pun-ish-ed,  and  they  al-ways  hop-ed 
that  when  he  grew  old-er  and  had  more 
sense,  he  would  leave  off  his  bad  ways 
of  his  own  ac-cord.  How-ev-er,  their 
kind-ness  to  him  did  not  make  him 
kind  to  them,  for  when-ev-er  he  was 
with  his  sis-ters,  he  was  all  the  time 
tor-ment-ing  and  vex-ing  them;  so  that 
they  had  no  pleas-ure  in  play-ing  with 
him. 


40  THE    MISCHIEVOUS    BOY. 

There  was  a  fine  swing  in  the  gar- 
den sus-pen-ded  to  a  cat-al-pa  tree, 
and  George  al-ways  swung  his  sis-ters 
so  high  that  their  feet  went  up  a-mong 
the  bran-ches,  and  the  more  they 
scream-ed  the  high-er  he  swung  them. 
He  once  threw  his  sis-ter  El-ean-or  out 
of  the  swing,  and  she  fell  on  her 
face  and  knock-ed  out  one  of  her  front 
teeth. 

They  had  a  see-saw  made  of  a  plank 
or  board  laid  over  a  log  of  wood.  He 
some-times  per-sua-ded  one  of  his  sis- 
ters to  see-saw  with  him,  and  then  he 
made  the  board  go  up  and  down  so 
vi-o-lent-ly  that  the  poor  lit-tle  girl  was 
sure  to  fall  off,  and  in  one  of  these  falls 
Lou-i-sa's  head  was  so  bruis-ed,  that  a 
blue  lump  near-ly  as  large  as  a  wal-nut 
a-rose  o-ver  her  eye-brow. 

If  they  play-ed  at  blind-man's  buff, 
and  a-ny  of  the  girls  were  blind-folded, 
George  would  pull  their  hair,  stick  their 


THE    MISCHIEVOUS    BOY.  41 

neck  with  pins,  put  ash-es  down  their 
backs,  seize  them  by  their  beads,  and 
haul  them  back-wards,  so  that  they  were 
near-ly  chok-ed;  and  creep  af-terthem 
on  the  floor,  to  catch  them  by  the  feet 
and  o-ver-set  them. 

He  pick-ed  out  the  eyes  and  cut  off 
the  no-ses  of  his  sis-ters'  dolls;  kick-ed 
o-ver  their  lit-tle  tea-ta-ble  when  they 
were  ma-king  a  feast;  wi-ped  his  pen 
up-on  their  frocks;  tore  their  best  books 
and  daub-ed  the  pic-tures  in  them  with 
red  paint;  and  in  short  he  was  con-ti- 
nu-al-ly  do-ing  some-thing  to  hurt  and 
teaze  them.  This  he  cal-led/ww,  but  a 
good  boy  nev-er  thinks  it  fun-ny  to  vex 
and  tor-ment  girls. 

One  morn-ing,  George  hav-ing  thought 
of  a  new  way  of  fright-en-ing  his  sis-ters 
in  the  eve-ning,  went  into  the  cel-lar 
and  car-ri-ed  off  the  lid  of  a  pie,  which 
had  been  set  there  to  keep  cool  be-fore 
it  was  time  to  bake  it;  and  lay-ing  the 
5 


42  THE    MISCHIEVOUS    BOY. 

piece  of  dough  on  a  bro-ken  plate,  he 
took  it  to  his  room  and  hid  it  in  the 
clo-set.  The  cook  could  not  im-a-gine 
what  had  gone  with  the  up-per  crust 
of  the  pie,  and  was  ob-li-ged  to  make 
an-oth-er. 

He  got  a  piece  of  or-ange-peel  and  cut 
out  a  set  of  large  teeth,  and  in  the  eve- 
ning he  laid  the  dough  on  his  face,  and 
pres-sing  it  down  hard  with  his  fin-gers, 
it  stuck  fast  to  all  his  fea-tures  and  cov- 
er-ed  them  like  a  mask.  He  made 
holes  in  the  dough  face,  for  his  eyes, 
mouth,  and  nos-trils.  Then  he  fix-ed 
in  his  mouth  the  two  rows  of  or-ange 
peel  teeth  which  grin-ned  hor-ri-bly,  and 
ta-king  a  sheet  from  his  bed,  he  wrap- 
ped him-self  in  it,  and  went  soft-ly  down 
into  the  gar-den. 

It  was  a  fine  moon-light  eve-ning,  and 
his  three  sis-ters  were  all  sit-ting  in  the 
back  porch, — Ju-lia,the  el-dest,  tel-ling 
the  oth-ers  a  fai-ry  tale. 


THE    MISCHIEVOUS    BOY.  43 

George  sud-den-ly  came  out  from  be- 
hind a  tall  clus-ter  of  li-lac  bush-es 
where  he  had  at  first  hid  him-self,  and 
stood  full  in  front  of  his  sis-ters  in  the 
grav-el  walk,  close  to  the  porch ;  the 
long  white  sheet  flow-ing  round  him, 
and  the  or-ange  peel  teeth  grin-ning 
out  of  the  fright-ful  dough  face. 

The  girls  all  per-ceiv-ed  him  at  the 
same  mo-ment,  and  could  not  im-a-gine 
who  he  was.  The  two  young-er  ones 
were  ve-ry  much  fright-en-ed,  and 
scream-ed  as  if  they  were  go-ing  in-to 
fits.  But  Ju-lia,  who  had  more  cou-rage 
and  knew  it  must  be  some  per-son  in 
dis-guise,  went  bold-ly  up  to  him,  and 
catch-ing  him  by  the  should-er  peel-ed 
off  the  dough  face,  and  saw  that  it  was 
her  naugh-ty  bro-ther  George. 

Lit-tle  Lou-i-sa  was  so  ter-ri-fi-ed  that 
she  con-ti-nu-ed  to  scream  for  a  long 
time,  e-ven  af-ter  Ju-lia  had  show-ed 
her   the  dough  face,  and  the  or-ange 


44  THE    MISCHIEVOUS    BOY. 

peel  teeth  in  her  hand,  and  poin-ted  to 
George  who  stood  by,  hav-ing  drop-ped 
the  white  sheet  on  the  ground. 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Graf-ton  (who 
had  drank  tea  out  that  eve-ning)  came 
home,  they  found  Lou-i-salook-ing  wild 
and  pale,  and  start-ing  and  scream-ing 
out  ev-e-ry  mo-ment.  She  had  not 
yet  got  o-ver  her  fright,  which  had  af- 
fect-ed  her  sen-ses,  and  she  was  like  a 
cra-zy  per-son  all  that  night  and  the 
next  day.  They  were  a-fraid  she  would 
nev-er  come  to  her-self  a-gain.  She 
had  to  be  bled,  and  was  weak  and  ill 
for  sev-e-ral  days. 

His  pa-rents  were  ver-y  an-gry  with 
George,  who  said  he  on-ly  tried  to 
fright-en  the  girls,  for  fun.  How-ev-er, 
he  did  ap-pear  sor-ry,  and  for  two  or 
three  weeks  be-ha-ved  bet-ter  than 
u-su-al;  but  he  soon  got  back  to  his  old 
hab-its. 


THE    MISCHIEVOUS    EOY.  45 

El-ean-or  Graf-ton  had  a  speck-led 
hen  with  a  beau-ti-ful  brood  of  lit-tle 
chick-ens.  El-ean-or  was  ve-ry  fond 
of  them,  and  kept  the  coop  di-rect-ly  un- 
der her  win-dow,  that  she  might  see 
them  when-ev-er  she  look-ed  out. 

George  was  so  wick-ed  as  to  think 
it  would  be  fine  fun  to  blow  up  with 
gun-pow-der,  the  coop,  the  hen,  and 
the  chick-ens;  for  which  pur-pose  he 
took  an  op-por-tu-ni-ty  when  no-bo-dy 
saw  him  of  bor-ing  a  hole  in  the  ground 
close  to  the  coop  and  a  lit-tle  way  un- 
der it.  He  in-tend-ed  to  fill  this  hole 
with  gun-pow-der.  He  cut  a  piece  off 
his  sis-ter?s  jump-ing  rope,  design-ing  at 
night,  when  every  one  was  in  bed,  to 
light  one  end  of  this  piece  of  rope,  and 
to  lay  it  on  the  ground,  so  that  the 
oth-er  end  would  touch  the  gun-pow- 
der; and  when  the  fire  reach-ed  the  last 
end,  the  pow-der  would  go  off  with  a 
loud  noise,  and  would  blow  the  coop, 


46  THE    MISCHIEVOUS    BOY. 

the  hen  and  chick-ens  up  in-to  the  air, 
tear-ing  them  all  in-to  a  thou-sand 
pie-ces. 

He  went  in  the  af-ter-noon  to  the 
near-est  store  and  bought  some  gun- 
pow-der,  pre-tend-ing  it  was  to  go 
shoot-ing  with.  It  was  put  in  a  pa-per 
bag,  which  he  found  too  large  to  go  in- 
to his  pock-et,  so  wrap-ping  his  hand- 
ker-chief  round  it  he  car-ri-ed  it  in  his 
hand. 

As  he  walk-ed  tow-ards  home,  he 
was  think-ing  all  the  time  how  he  would 
laugh,  when  he  stood  in  the  porch  and 
saw  the  fire  creeping  to  the  far-thest 
end  of  the  rope,  and  how  it  would  di-vert 
him  to  see  the  hen  and  chick-ens  fly  to 
pie-ces  and  rise  up  in  the  air,  with  the 
coop  splin-ter-ed  to  chips.  His  fath-er 
and  moth-er  had  gone  to  town  and  was 
not  ex-pect-ed  home  till  next  day,  but 
he  thought  how  fun-ny  it  would  be  to 
hear  his  sis-ters  and  the  ser-vants  jump 


THE    MISCHIEVOUS   BOY.  47 

out  of  bed  at  the  noise,  and  all  run  in 
their  night  caps  to  the  win-dows  to  see 
what  was  the  mat-ter. 

While  his  mind  was  thus  oc-cu-pied, 
he  hap-pen-ed,  in  getting  over  a  fence, 
to  let  his  bag  of  pow-der  fall  in-to  a 
a  deep  pud-die  of  wat-er.  This  vex-ed 
him  ve-ry  much,  as  wet  pow-der  will  not 
take  fire. 

As  soon  as  he  reach-ed  home,  he 
went  into  the  kitch-en  and  got  a  large 
cha-flng  dish,  which  he  fil-led  with 
light-ed  char-coal  and  car-ri-ed  in-to 
the  yard;  tel-ling  the  cook  that  he  was 
go-ing  to  roast  some  ground-nuts. 

He  took  a  tin  pan  from  the  dres-ser, 
and  set-ting  it  on  the  cha-fing  dish  care- 
ful-ly  pour-ed  in-to  it  some  of  the  gun- 
pow-der,  with  the  in-ten-tion  of  dry-ing 
it  over  the  fire.  In  a  short  time  the 
pan  grew  too  hot,  and  the  pow-der  with 
a  loud  noise  flash-ed  up  into  George's 


48  THE    MISCHIEVOUS   BOY. 

face  as  he  was  stoop-ing  down  to  watch 
it. 

He  thought  for  a  mo-ment  that  his 
head  was  off,  and  his  screams  brought 
all  the  fam-i-ly  in-to  the  yard.  His 
face  was  dread-fully  scorch-ed,  his 
front  hair  and  his  eye-brows  were  burnt 
off,  his  shirt-col-lar  was  as  black  as  soot, 
and  al-to-geth-er  he  was  a  most  de-plo- 
ra-ble  sight. 

The  near-est  doc-tor  was  im-me-di- 
ate-ly  sent  for;  and  when  his  pa-rents 
came  home  next  morn-ing  they  found 
George  in  a  most  shock-ing  con-di-tion; 
and  it  was  a  long  time  be-fore  he  ceas- 
ed to  suffer  with  his  burns. 

His  face  was  dis-fi-gured  for  life  ; 
being  fil-led  with  blue  specks  caus-ed 
by  the  grains  of  gun-pow-der  re-main- 
ing  in  it.  His  eyes  were  so  much  in- 
ju-red,  that,  af-ter  stay-ing  in  a  dark 
room  for  sev-e-ral  months,  he  was  ob- 
li-ged  al-ways  to  wear  spec-ta-cles. 


THE    PET    CALF.  49 

He  could  not  help  own-ing  that  he 
was  just-ly  pun-ish-ed  for  hav-ing  in- 
tend-ed  to  de-stroy  so  cru-el-ly  his  sis- 
ter's hen  and  chick-ens.  This  sad  ac- 
ci-dent  en-tirely  cu-red  him  of  all  his 
mis-chie-vous  tricks. 


THE  PET    CALF. 


No  chil-dren  could  be  more  ten-der 
heart-ed  than  Har-ri-et  and  Em-i-ly 
Lov-el.  They  were  board-ing  one  sum- 
mer du-ring  the  hol-i-days,  at  a  farm- 
house a  few  miles  from  town,  and  they 
be-came  ve-ry  fond  of  a  beau-ti-ful  lit- 
tle calf,  that  du-ring  the  day  was  kept 
ti-ed  un-der  a  tree  in  a  small  mead-ow 
near  the  house,  and  at  night  was  put 


50  THE    PET    CALF. 

in-to  the  sta-ble.  The  col-our  of  the 
calf  was  brown  and  white,  and  noth-ing 
could  be  pret-ti-er  and  clean-er. 

It  was  the  chil-dren's  great  de-light 
to  car-ry  wat-er  to  this  calf,  and  to  take 
it  some-times  a  hand-ful  of  salt  which 
they  laid  on  a  flat  stone  before  it,  and 
the  lit-tle  an-i-mal  lick-ed  it  up  with  so 
much  plea-sure,  that  Em-i-ly  said,  she 
was  sure  the'calf  li-ked  salt  as  well  as  she 
li-ked  black-ber-ry  jam.  They  pat-ted  its 
head,  strok-edit,  and  some-times  e-ven 
kis-sed  its  clean  sweet  mouth,  as  they 
cal-led  it.  The  calf  soon  learnt  to  know 
the  lit-tle  girls,  and  seem-ed  de-light-ed 
when-ev-er  it  saw  them. 

How-ev-er,  when  the  cow,  whose 
name  was  Cher-ry,  was  brought  to  it 
morn-ing  and  eve-ning,  they  took  care 
to  keep  at  a  dis-tance,  as  they  had  been 
told  that  cows  (who  are  very  fond  moth- 
ers) nev-er  al-low  a-ny  per-son  to  touch 
their  calves  lest  they  should  hurt  them. 


THE    PET    CALF.  51 

At  these  times  the  calf  be-ing  un-tied 
to  take  ex-er-cise,  the  lit-tle  girls  (who 
look-ed  at  it  through  the  fence)  were  de- 
light-ed  to  see  it  pran-cing  and  gam- 
bol-ing  round  its  moth-er. 

One  eve-ning  while  Har-ri-et  and 
Em-i-ly  were  eat-ing  their  sup-per  of 
pie  and  milk,  they  were  start-led  to 
hear  the  far-mer,  Ja-cob  Jenk-ins,  say 
to  his  wife,  "  I  think,  Bec-ky,  the  calf 
will  be  fit  to  krll  in  an-oth-er  week. 
It  is  the  fi-nest  and  fat-test  we  ev-er 
had." 

The  chil-dren  turn-ed  pale.  "  But 
you  do  not  mean  this  calf,"  said  Har- 
ri-et;  "  you  sure-ly  do  not  in-tend  to 
have  this  calf  kil-led." 

"  Why  not  this  as  well  as  a-ny  oth- 
er?" said  the  far-mer.  "  We  do  not 
want  to  raise  it,  and  we  shall  get  at 
least  five  dol-lars  for  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  wife,  "  and  that  five 
dol-lars  will  just  buy  me  the  new  Can-ton 


52  THE    TET    CALF. 

crape  shawl  I  have  been  want-ing  this 
great  while.  I  hear  there  are  plen-ty 
of  them  in  the  ci-ty  at  that  price,  al-most 
a  yard  square.  All  the  neigh-bour  wom- 
en have  them,  and  I've  set  my  mind  on 
a  pink  one." 

"  Well,  Bec-ky,"  re-plied  the  farm-er, 
"  when  the  calf  is  sold,  you  shall  have  a 
shawl  with  the  mon-ey." 

"  But,"  said  Em-i-ly,  "  is  it  not  bet- 
ter you  should  do  with-out  a  crape 
shawl  than  that  the  poor  calf  should  be 
kil-led?" 

"  Ah,"  re-plied  the  farm-er's  wife, 
"  you  lit-tle  town-girls  know  noth-ing 
a-bout  such  things.  How  should  we 
get  the  most  of  our  mon-ey,  if  it  was 
not  for  sel-ling  and  kil-ling  our  calves 
and  pigs  and  fowls  and  tur-keys?  What 
do  we  feed  and  fat-ten  them  for,  but  to 
make  them  fit  to  kill?" 


Still,  the  chil-dren  thought  with  hor- 


THE    PET    CALF. 


ror  of  the  kil-ling  of  the  be-lov-ed  calf; 
and  they  trem-bled  when  they  heard, 
that  on  the  fol-low-ing  Mon-day  it  was 
to  be  sold  to  a  butch-er,  who  would 
then  be  go-ing  through  the  neigh-bour- 
hood  col-lect-ing  calves.  They  under- 
stood that  their  "dear  pet,"  as  they 
cal-led  it,  was  to  be  kil-led  on  Tues-day, 
and  the  meat  ta-ken  to  mar-ket  on  Wed- 
nesday. 

"  I  think,  Ja-cob,"  said  the  farm-er's 
wife,  "  you  may  as  well  tell  the  butch-er 
to  save  a  loin  of  this  veal  for  us,  as  we 
ex-pect  some  folks  to  dine  with  us  on 
Thurs-day.  It  will  be  so  fat  and  so  fine, 
and  you  can  bring  it  when  you  go  to 
town  with  the  but-ter." 

At  these  words  both  the  lit-tle  girls 
be-gan  to  scream,  ex-claim-ing:  "  Oh  ! 
no,  no,  we  cannot  bear  to  see  a  piece 
of  the  dear  lit-tle  calf  af-ter  it  is  kil-led." 
"  Oh!"  said  Har-ri-et,  "  I  would  not 
taste  a  mouth-ful  of  that  calf  for  the 

6 


54  THE  PET    CALF. 

world.  The  sweet  crea-ture  that  we 
have  play-ed  with  and  kis-sed  so  of- 
ten." "  If  a  mor-sel  of  that  calf  is 
brought  in-to  the  house,"  cried  Em-i-ly, 
"  we  will  leave  it,  and  go  and  stay  all  day 
in  the  barn.  Oh!  I  nev-er  shall  be 
a-ble  to  eat  veal  a-gain,  if  our  sweet  lit- 
tle calf  is  kil-led." 

The  farm-er  and  his  wife  on-ly  smi- 
led; but  at  last  the  wife  said,  "  Well, 
well,  Ja-cob,  we  will  not  wor-ry  the 
chil-dren.  We  will  do  with-out  the 
veal.  On  Mon-day  we  shall  have  to  put 
Cher-ry  in  the  old  field  be-hind  the 
woods,  for  if  she  is  any  where  near  the 
house,  she  will  bel-low  so  for  the  loss  of 
her  calf,  that  there  will  be  no .  get-ting 
a  wink  of  sleep  that  night." 

"  Oh !  poor  cow,"  said  Har-ri-et, 
"  how  she  will  grieve  when  she  thinks 
of  the  dear  lit-tle  thing  that  used  to  run 
and  play  round  her.   t  How  my  moth-er 


THE    PET    CALF.  55 

would  scream  if  Em-i-ly  were  to  be  ta- 
ken a-way  and  kil-led!" 

At  bed  time  the  chil-dren  went  sor- 
row-ful-lyto  their  room,  and  Em-i-ly 
said,  "  What  a  wick-ed  wo-man  Mrs. 
Jen-kins  must  be  to  have  the  dar-ling 
calf  kil-led  just  that  she  may  get  a  Can- 
ton crape  shawl.  How  I  shall  dis-like 
to  see  her  wear  it."  "  She  is  not  wick- 
ed," re-pli-ed  Har-ri-et,  "  for  she  is  ac- 
cus-tom-ed,  as  she  told  us,  to  sel-ling 
and  kil-ling  calves  and  pigs  and  poul-try; 
and  she  thinks  it  prop-er  and  right.  But 
I  wish  there  was  a-ny  way  of  giving  her 
a  Can-ton  crape  shawl,  and  then  per- 
haps she  would  be  sat-is-fied  and  let 
the  calf  live.  Oh!  what  shall  we  do 
when  we  see  the  butch-er  lead  it  a-way 
with  him!"  "  I  will  not  see  it,"  said 
Em-i-ly,  "  for  I  will  shut  my-self  up  in 
a  back  room  and  nev-er  once  look  out 
of  the  win-dow." 


56  THE  PET  CALF. 

Just  then  Mol-ly,  an  I-rish  ser-vant 
girl,  that  liv-ed  at  farm-er  Jen-kins's, 
came  up  to  put  the  lit-tle  girls  to  bed, 
and  while  she  was  un-dres-sing  them, 
they  were  still  la-ment-ing  the  pro-ba- 
ble  fate  of  the  lit-tle  calf. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  dears,"  said  Mol-ly, 
"  if  you  are  so  sor-ry  a-bout  that  calf, 
I'll  put  you  in  a  way  to  save  its  life.  I've 
just  been  paid  my  wa-ges,  and  I  am  go- 
ing to  town  to-mor-row  in  the  stage  to 
buy  my-self  a  new  gown,  and  some  oth- 
er things;  and  if  you  will  give  me  the 
mon-ey,  I'll  get  a  pink  Can-ton  crape 
shawl  for  Mrs.  Jenk-ins,  and  you  can 
make  her  a  pres-ent  of  it,  if  she'll  pro- 
mise to  let  the  lit-tle  calf  live." 

The  chil-dren  thought  this  an  excel- 
lent plan,  but  they  found  they  had  not 
mon-ey  e-nough,  Har-ri-et's  whole  stock 
a-mount-ing  to  half  a  dol-lar,  and  Em-i- 
ly's  to  a  quar-ter  of  a  dol-lar  and  ten 
cents.     How  did  they  now  re-gret  what 


THE  PET  CALF.  57 

they  had  spent  at  the  store  for  su-gar- 
can-dy  and  at  the  old  gin-ger-bread  wo- 
man's. 

"  Oh,"  said  Har-ri-et,  "  the  shawl 
will  cost  five  dol-lars,  and  we  have  noth- 
ing like  that  much." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  will  do,"  said  Mol- 
ly, "  you  can  give  me  those  cor-al  neck- 
la-ces  with  the  large  gold  lock-ets  that 
you  wore  round  your  necks  when  you 
first  came  here,  and  that  you've  left  off 
since  the  weath-er  has  been  so  hot.  I'll 
take  them  to  a  jew-el-ler's  and  sell  them, 
and  then  buy  the  shawl  with  the  mon-ey, 
and  then  when  I  come  back,  (which 
will  be  on  Sa-tur-day,)  I  will  bring  it 
with  me,  and  you  can  give  it  to  Mrs 
Jen-kins;  and  so  the  calf's  life  will 
be  sa-ved  be-fore  the  butch-er  comes 
for  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  Har-ri-et,  "  but  how  can 
we  send  our  neck-la-ces  to  be  sold  with- 
out the  con-sent  of  our  pa-rents  ?     You 


58  THE    PET  CALF. 

know  ev-e-ry  thing  we  have  in  the 
world,  was  bought  for  us  by  them,  and 
with  their  mon-ey.  To  be  sure  we 
have  no  way  of  ask-ing  their  con-sent 
now,  when  they  are  a- way  at  Sa-ra-to- 
ga." 

"  And  they  are  so  good  and  kind," 
said  Em-i-ly,  "  that  I  am  sure  they  will 
not  be  ve-ry  an-gry  when  they  hear 
that  there  was  no  oth-er  way  of  sav-ing 
the  dear  calf's  life." 

The  lit-tle  girls  gave  their  neck-la-ces 
to  Mol-ly,  who  prom-is-ed  to  get  as 
much  as  she  could  for  them,  and  to  buy 
with  it  a  beau-ti-ful  shawl.  Next  day 
she  set  off  in  the  stage  for  town,  carry- 
ing with  her  a  large  bun-die,  which  she 
said  con-tain-ed  dres-ses  that  she  was 
go-ing  to  get  al-tered. 


Sat-ur-day  eve-ning  eame;  the  stage 
pas-sed  by;  but  Mol-ly  was  not  in  it. 
The  chil-dren  who  had  been  look-ing 


THE     PET  CALF.  59 

out  anx-ious-ly  for  more  than  an  hour, 
were  much  dis-ap-point-ed,  and  they 
wea-ri-ed  them-sel-ves  with  con-jec-tu- 
ring  why  she  did  not  come.  They  went 
sad-ly  to  bed,  ho-ping  she  would  ar- 
rive in  the  morn-ing. 

The  next  day  pass-ed  on,  and  still  no 
Mol-ly  ap-pear-ed;  and  the  farm-er  said 
he  now  was  con-vin-ced  she  did  not  in- 
tend re-turn-ing  at  all.  Mrs.  Jenk-ins 
went  up  to  Mol-ly's  room,  and  found 
that  she  had  taken  all  her  clothes  with 
her  in  the  bun-die,  which  pro-ved  that 
the  art-ful  girl  had  in-tend-ed  not  to 
come  back. 

When  Mrs.  Jenk-ins  came  down  and 
told  that  Mol-ly  had  cer-tain-ly  gone  off 
to  re-turn  no  more,  the  lit-tle  girls  look- 
ed shock-ed,  and  Em-i-ly  said,  "  But  I 
am  sure  she  will  come  back;  I  am  quite 
sure  she  will.  She  can-not  be  so  wick- 
ed as  to  stay  a-way  for-ev-er."  "  Why,  I 
sup-pose,"  said  Mrs.  Jenk-ins,  "she  is 


60  THE    PET    CALF. 

ti-red  of  liv-ing  out  in  the  coun-try.  But 
she  might  have  told  us  so.  I  am  sure 
we  would  not  have  tried  to  keep  her; 
and  we  shall  not  trou-ble  our-selves  to 
get  her  back  a-gain,  for  we  do  not  know 
what  part  of  the  town  she  has  gone  to, 
or  who  are  her  peo-ple;  and  we 
might  as  well  look  for  a  nee-dle  in  a 
hay-stack  as  search  for  Mol-ly  in  the 
city.     I  am  sure  she  is  no  loss." 

But  the  children  thought  their  neck- 
la-ces  that  she  had  ta-ken  with  her,  a 
ve-ry  great  loss,  as  on  them  de-pend-ed 
the  mon-ey  that  was  to  buy  the  shawl 
They  look-ed  out  at  the  door  and  saw 
the  calf  play-ing  round  the  cow,  who 
was  lick-ing  it  all  o-ver  ve-ry  af-fection- 
ate-ly.  "  Ah !  poor  lit-tle  calf,"  thought 
Em-i-ly,  "  I  fear  the  butch-er  will  get 
you  at  last,  for  Mol-ly  will  nev-er  come 
back,  and  we  shall  have  no  crape  shawl 
to  save  your  life  with." 

Af-ter  the  lit-tle  girls  had   gone  to 


THE  PET  CALF.  61 

bed  they  lay  a-wake  for  a  longtime  and 
cried.  "  Har-ri-et,"  said  Em-i-ly,  "  how 
are  calves  kil-led?"  "  I  be-lieve,"  re- 
plied Har-ri-et,  "  the  butch-er  ties  the 
poor  things  fast,  to  pre-vent  their  run- 
ning a-way,  and  then  cuts  their  throats 
with  a  sharp  knife;  and  af-ter-wards  they 
are  skin-ned  and  cut  in-to  pieces  and 
sold  for  veal."  Both  the  chil-dren  then 
burst  in-to  loud  sobs,  and  at  last  they 
cried  them-selves  to  sleep. 

They  spent  near-ly  all  the  next  morn- 
ing in  ca-res-sing  and  la-ment-ing  o-ver 
the  calf.  A-bout  noon  the  far-mer  came 
in,  and  his  wife  said  to  him,  "  Ja-cob, 
there  is  the  butch-er  com-ing  up  the 
road  with  his  cart.  Have  you  had 
Cher-ry  put  in  the  old  field?"  "  Yes," 
said  the  farm-er,  "  she  is  far  e-nough 
off.  She  will  not  see  the  calf  go." 
The  two  lit-tle  girls  then  cov-er- 
ed  their  fa-ces  with  their  hands  and 


62  THE   PET  CALF. 

burst  in-to  tears,  andEm-i-ly  said, "  Oh! 
in-deed  we  tried  all  we  could  to  save 
the  poor  calf.  We  gave  Mol-ly  both 
our  cor-al  neck-la-ces  to  take  to  town 
and  sell;  she  was  to  buy  a  beau-ti-ful 
pink  Can-ton  crape  shawl  and  bring  it 
to  Mrs.  Jenk-ins  to  pay  for  the  calf.  It 
was  the  on-ly  thing  we  could  do,  for  we 
had  ve-ry  lit-tle  mon-ey."  "  Oh  !  that 
wick-ed  Mol-ly,"  ex-claim-ed  Har-ri-et, 
"  to  car-ry  off  our  co-ral  neck-la-ces, 
and  nev-er  come  back,  when  she  knew 
the  calf's  life  de-pen-ded  on  it." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Bec-ky,"  said  the 
farm-er  to  his  wife,  "  since  the  chil-dren 
take  on  so  about  it,*  I  do  not  know  but 
I'll  let  the  calf  live."  "  Why,"  said  Mrs. 
Jenk-ins,  "  you  know  the  trou-ble  and 
ex-pense  of  rais-ing  a  calf,  and  we  are 
not  at  all  in  want  of  cows;  we  have 
plen-ty  of  them  al-rea-dy." 

"  Well,"  re-plied  the  farm-er,  "a  good 


THE    PET  CALF.  63 

cow  nev-er  comes  a-miss.  What  sig- 
ni-fies  the  five  dol-lars  I  am  to  get  for 
this  lit-tle  calf?  I  say  it  shall  live.  I 
sup-pose  I  can  af-ford  the  ex-pense  of 
rais-ing  it,  and  you  can  af-ford  the  trou- 
ble; and  I  sup-pose  too  I  can  af-ford  to 
buy  a  wo-raan  a  shawl  with-out  let-ting 
two  good  lit-tle  girls  break  their  hearts 
a-bout  it.  Come,  chil-dren,  wipe  your 
eyes  and  leave  off  cry-ing.  The  butch- 
er shall  not  have  the  calf;  and  Bec-ky 
shall  have  her  shawl,  and  no-bo-dy  will 
be  the  worse  for  this  whole  bu-si-ness 
ex-cept  your  two  selves,  that  have  lost 
the  red  beads  and  lock-ets  that  the 
thief  Mol-ly  has  ran  a-way  with." 

The  chil-dren's  eyes  now  spark-led 
with  joy.  They  dan-ced  a-bout  the 
room  and  kis-sed  the  farm-er  and  his 
wife  o-ver  and  o-ver  a-gain.  In  a  few 
min-utes  they  had  the  hap-pi-ness  of 
hear-ing   him  tell  the  butch-er  at  the 


64  THE  PET  CALF. 

gate,  that  he  had  chan-ged  his  mind 
and  in-tend-ed  now  to  raise  the  calf. 
The  lit-tle  girls  were  glad  to  see  the 
butch-er's  cart  drive  off,  and  they  watch- 
ed it  till  it  was  fair-ly  out  of  sight.  They 
then  ran  out  to  the  calf  and  hug-ged 
and  kis-sed  it  a  thou-sand  times,  tel- 
ling it  that  it  had  just  es-ca-ped  from 
death;  and  that  it  was  now  to  live  on 
and  grow  up  a  fine  cow. 

Har-ri-et  and  Em-i-ly  re-turn-ed  to 
the  city  when  their  pa-rents  came  back 
from  the  springs,  and  when  their  school 
a-gain  o-pen-ed. 

Nei-ther  Mol-ly  nor  the  neck-la-ces 
were  ev-er  heard  of  more.  It  was  sup- 
posed she  had  gone  to  some  oth-er  town, 
and  sold  them  there. 

A  few  years  af-ter,  Mr.  Lov-el,  the 
fath-er  of  Har-ri-et  and  Em-i-ly,  bought 
acoun-try  house  in  the  neigh-bour-hood 
of  Ja-cob  Jenk-ins,  and  pur-chas-ed  of 
the  far-mer  a  fine  brown  and  white  cow, 


THE  LISTENER.  65 

and  his  daugh-ters  had  the  pleasure  of 
be-ing  sup-plied  with  milk  by  the  ve-ry 
an-i-mal  whose  life  they  had  caus-ed  to 
be  sav-ed  when  it  was  a  lit-tle  calf. 


THE  LISTENER. 

Char-lotte  Wal-den  had  a  con- 
stant de-sire  to  hear  what  ev-e-ry  bo-dy 
was  say-ing,  and  she  was  so  mean  as  to 
listen  at  doors,  and  to  hide  her-self  that 
she  might  have  an  op-por-tu-ni-ty  of 
dis-cov-e-ring  things  that  were  not  in- 
tend-ed  for  her  to  know.  Her  moth-er 
of-ten  told  Char-lotte  that  a  list-en-er 
is  al-most  as  bad  as  a  thief.  A  thief 
steals  mon-ey  or  prop-er-ty  that  be-longs 
to  other  peo-ple,  and  a  list-en-er  steals 

7 


66  THE  LISTENER. 

the  se-crets  of  oth-ers.  All  per-sons 
that  are  in  the  hab-it  of  list-en-ing, 
make  them-selves  ap-pear  mean  and 
con-temp-ti-ble,  and  de-serve  to  be  des- 
pi-sed  and  pun-ish-ed. 

When  her  fath-er  and  moth-er  sent 
Char-lotte  out  of  the  room,  when  they 
were  go-ing  to  talk  of  any  thing  that 
they  did  not  wish  her  to  hear,  she  al- 
ways re-main-ed  list-en-ing  at  the  door 
with  her  ear  close  to  the  key-hole;  and 
once  one  of  her  curls  got  en-tan-gled  in 
the  key,  and  when  her  fath-er  sud-den-ly 
open-ed  the  door  she  fell  for-ward  in-to 
the  room,  and  hurt  her  nose  so  that  it 
bled. 

When  she  knew  that  her  moth-er  had 
vis-i-ters  in  the  par-lour,  or  that  her  fa- 
ther had  gen-tle-men  there  with  him  on 
bu-si-ness,  she  would  quit  her  les-sons 
or  her  play  things,  and  come  soft-ly 
down  stairs  and  lis-ten  at  the  door;  or 
would  slip  in-to  the  gar-den  and  crouch 


THE    LISTENER. 


67 


down  un-der  the  o-pen  win-dow,  that 
she  might  hear  what  they  were  say-ing. 
Once  when  she  was  stoop-ing  half  dou- 
ble un-der  the  par-lour  win-dow,  her 
fath-er,  not  know-ing  that  she  was 
there,  and  find-ing  that  a  fly  had  got 
in-to  a  glass  of  beer  that  he  was  go-ing 
to  drink,  went  to  throw  out  the  beer, 
and  emp-ti-ed  the  tum-bler  on  Char- 
lotte's head. 

One  eve-ning  after  she  had  been  put 
to  bed,  she  heard  the  door-bell  ring,  and 
the  voi-ces  of  a  gen-tle-man  and  la-dy 
in  the  en-try,  who  had  come  to  vis-it 
her  fath-er  and  moth-er.  Af-ter  a  while, 
her  cu-ri-os-i-ty  to  hear  the  con-ver-sa- 
tion  be-came  so  great,  that  she  got 
up,  in-tend-ing  to  lis-ten  at  the  par-lour 
door.  As  she  stole  down  stairs,  bare- 
foot, and  in  her  night-gown,  hold-ing 
by  the  ban-nis-ters  in  the  dark,  she  fell 
o-ver  a  buck-et  of  wa-ter  which  the 
cham-ber-maid  had  left  on  the  land-ing 


68  THE  LISTENER. 

place,  while  she  went  to  get  the  pitch-ers 
to  fill  them  for  the  night. 

The  buck-et  and  Char-lotte  rol-led 
down  stairs  to-geth-er,  and  so  great  was 
the  noise,  that  ev-e-ry  one  in  the  house, 
e-ven  the  vis-i-ters,  ran  in-to  the  en-try 
to  see  what  was  the  mat-ter.  She  was 
drench-ed  in  wat-er  and  ve-ry  much  hurt, 
and  had  to  con-fess  that  she  was  com- 
ing down  stairs  to  lis-ten,  when  she  fell 
o-ver  the  buck-et. 

Once  when  she  heard  her  moth-er 
say,  that  she  ex-pect-ed  two  la-dies  at 
three  o'clock  onpar-ti-cu-lar  bu-si-ness, 
Char-lotte  went  in-to  the  front  par-lour 
be-fore  the  time  of  their  ar-ri-val,  and 
hid  her-self  un-der  one  of  the  da-mask 
ot-to-mans,  the  deep  foot-val-ance  of 
which  con-ceal-ed  her  en-tire-ly.  Here 
she  lay  till  the  la-dies  ar-ri-ved,  and  her 
moth-er  came  down  to  them.  A  dog 
be-long-ing  to  one  of  the  la-dies  ran  di- 
rect-ly  to  the  ot-to-man,  and  be-gan  to 


THE    LISTENER.  69 

snuff  and  scratch  as   if  he  had  found 
some-thing. 

The  la-dy  said,  "  I  think  Car-lo  must 
have  scent-ed  a  cat  un-der  the  ot-to- 
man."  Mrs.  Wal-den  got  up  to  look, 
but  be-fore  she  reach-ed  the  ot-to-man, 
the  dog  had  lift-ed  the  val-ance  with 
his  nose,  and  dis-cov-er-ed  the  naugh-ty 
girl,  who,  o-ver-come  with  shame  and 
con-fu-sion,  hid  her  face  with  her  hands, 
till  her  moth-er  cal-ling  one  of  the 
maids,  de-si-red  her  to  take  Char-lotte 
and  lock  her  up  in  a  back  cham-ber,  for 
the  re-main-der  of  the  day. 


One  eve-ning,  af-ter  she  was  old 
e-nough  to  put  her-self  to  bed,  her  lit- 
tle lamp  blew  out  as  she  was  go-ing 
up  stairs,  and  she  went  down  to  the 
kitch-en  to  get  it  ligh-ted.  There  when 
she  came  near  the  door,  she  found  that 
the  ser-vants  were  en-ter-tain-ing  some 
of  their    ac-quain-tan-ces  with  an  ac- 


70  THE  LISTENER. 

count  of  fam-i-lies  in  which  they  had 
for-mer-ly  liv-ed. 

Be-ing  ve-ry  de-si-rous  of  hear-ing 
all  they  said,  she  did  not  go  in-to  the 
kitch-en  to  light  her  lamp,  but  slip-ped 
in-to  the  cel-lar  which  had  two  doors, 
one  o-pen-ing  in-to  a  lit-tle  en-try,  and 
one  in-to  the  kitch-en  it-self.  Lean-ing 
her  head  a-gainst  this  door  (which  had 
a  ve-ry  wide  crack)  she  seat-ed  her-self 
on  a  large  log  of  wood,  and  lis-ten-ed 
for  a  while  with  great  at-ten-tion  till  she 
grad-u-al-ly  be-gan  to  doze,  and  at  last 
fell  fast  a-sleep. 

When  the  ser-vants  were  go-ing  to- 
bed,  they  bolt-ed  both  the  cel-lar  doors 
(not  know-ing  that  a-ny  per-son  was 
there)  and  went  up  stairs,  leav-ing  Char- 
lotte in  a  deep  sleep. 

Some-time  in  the  mid-die  of  the  night 
she  a-woke  by  fal-ling  off  the  log  back- 
wards, up-on  a  heap  of  Le-high  coal. 
The  back  of  her  neck  and  head  were 


THE  LISTENER.  71 

ve-ry  much  hurt,  and  be-gan  to  bleed. 
When  she  first  a-woke,  she  did  not  know 
where  she  was,  or  what  had  hap-pen-ed 
to  her;  but  when  she  found  her-self 
a-lone  at  mid-night  in  the  dark  cel-lar, 
and  felt  the  pain  of  the  brui-ses  and  cuts 
in  her  head  and  neck,  and  knew  that 
the  blood  was  trick-ling  from  them, 
she  be-gan  to  scream  vi-o-lent-ly. 

The  loud-ness  of  the  noise  a-woke 
her  fath-er  and  moth-er;  and  Mr.  Wal- 
den,  put-ting  on  his  flan-nel  gown  and 
ta-king  the  night-lamp  ran  up  in-to  Char- 
lotte's room,  know-ing  the  voice  to  be 
hers.  To  his  great  sur-prise,  he  found 
she  was  not  there,  and  that  there  was 
no  ap-pear-ance  of  her  hav-ing  been  in 
bed  that  night. 

The  screams  grew  loud-er  and  loud- 
er, and  Mr.  Wal-den  found  that  they 
came  from  the  cel-lar.  By  this  time, 
ev-e-ry  one  in  the  house  was  up;  and 
the  wom-en  stood  at  the  head  of  the 


72  THE  LISTENER. 

stairs,  while  the  ser-vant  man  fol-low-ed 
Mr.  Wal-den. 

When  they  came  to  the  cel-lar,  they 
found  Char-lotte  stretch-ed  on  a  bed  of 
coals,  her  white  frock  black-en-ed  by 
the  coal  dust,  and  stain-ed  with  blood, 
her  face  dead-ly  pale,  and  her-self 
al-to-geth-er  in  a  de-plo-ra-ble  condi- 
tion. 

Her  fath-er  took  her  in  his  arms,  and 
it  was  some  time  be-fore  she  could 
speak  to  tell  how  she  came  in-to  the 
cel-lar.  He  car-ri-ed  her  to  her  moth-er, 
who  was  much  shock-ed  to  see  her  in 
such  a  wretch-ed  state. 

Char-lotte's  soil-ed  and  blood-y  clothes 
were  ta-ken  off,  and  she  was  wash-ed 
and  a  clean  night-gown  put  on  her.  The 
wounds  in  her  head  and  neck  were 
dres-sed  and  bound  with  ban-da-ges, 
and  she  was  car-ri-ed  to  bed  ex-haus-ted 
with  cry-ing,  and  faint  with  the  loss  of 
blood.     She   had   a  high  fe-ver,    and 


THE    FOUR    LITTLE    DOGS.  73 

could  not  sleep,  and  her  moth-er  sat 
by  her  bed-side  all  the  re-main-der  of 
the  night. 

By  the  time  Char-lotte  Wal-den  got 
well  of  her  hurts,  she  was  en-tire-ly  cu- 
red of  her  in-cli-na-tion  for  lis-ten-ing, 
and  nev-er  a-gain  show-ed  a  de-sire  to 
over-hear  what  peo-ple  were  talk-ing 
a-bout,  or  to  pry  in-to  se-crets. 


THE 


FOUR    LITTLE    DOGS. 

Charles  Im-lay  and  his  broth-er  Ed- 
win were  ve-ry  cle-ver  at  work-ing  in 
wood,  and  they  made  all  their  own  play 
things.     They  spent  the  most  of  their 


74  THE    FOUR    LITTLE    DOGS. 

lei-sure  time  in  the  woods  be-yond  their 
fath-er's  peach  or-chard;  these  woods 
be-ing  sel-dom  vis-it-ed  by  any  but  them- 
selves. Here  in  a  large  hole  in  one  of 
the  rocks  they  kept  their  work-ing  tools, 
and  a  store  of  peach-es  from  the  or- 
chard to  eat  while  they  were  bu-sy. 

Charles  made  a  lit-tle  wa-ter  mill, 
and  Ed-ward  a  forge  with  a  tilt  ham- 
mer. When  these  ma-chines  were  fi- 
nish-ed,  they  car-ri-ed  them  down  to 
the  creek,  and  fix-ed  them  in  a  cool  sha- 
dy place  just  be-low  a  fall  made  by  the 
wat-er  tumb-ling  and  foam-ing  o-ver  a 
low  ledge  of  rocks.  The  force  of  the 
wat-er  turn-ed  the  wheels  of  Charles' 
mill,  and  set  in  mo-tion  the  tilt-ham- 
mer of  Ed-win's  forge.  The  wheel 
went  round  quite  as  well  as  that  of  a 
real  mill,  and  the  loud  ham-mer-ing  of 
Ed-win's  lit-tle  forge  could  be  heard  a 
quar-ter  of  a  mile  off. 

Af-ter  Charles  and  Ed-win  had  stood 


THE  FOUR  LITTLE  DOGS.  75 

for  some  time  ad-mi-ring  the  suc-cess 
of  their  ma-chines,  they  per-ceiv-ed  a 
coun-try  hoy  sit-ting  un-der  the  wil-lows 
a  lit-tle  be-low  them,  and  bu-si-ly  en- 
ga-ged  at  some-thing  they  could  not  un- 
der-stand.  They  drew  near-er,  and 
pla-cing  them-selyes  on  a  low  rock  be- 
hind him,  they  soon  dis-cov-er-ed  his 
em-ploy-ment. 

In  the  re-mains  of  an  old  bro-ken  bas- 
ket he  had  four  ve-ry  pret-ty  lit-tle  pup- 
pies of  the  span-i-el  kind.  He  was  ty- 
ing strings  round  their  necks,  to  which 
were  fast-en-ed  bits  of  rag,  in-clo-sing 
stones. 

"What  are  you  go-ing  to  do  with 
those  pups?"  said  Charles.  "  I  am  go-ing 
to  drown  them  in  the  creek,"  re-pli-ed 
the  boy.  "  That  is  ve-ry  cru-el,"  said 
Ed-win. 

•c  I  am  not  cru-el  at  all,"  an-swer-ed 
the  boy.  "  These  pups  be-long-ed  to 
our  dog  Romp,  who  died  the  oth-er  day; 


76  THE  FOUR  LITTLE  DOGS. 

and  my  moth-er  won't  let  me  raise 
them,  for  she  says  there  are  too  ma-ny 
dogs  al-read-y  a-bout  the  house;  for 
we've  old  Prince  and  young  Prince,  and 
big  Prince  and  lit-tle  Prince;  and  so  she 
has  made  me  bring  them  to  the  creek 
to  drown  them;  and  I  must  say  it  goes 
ve-ry  much  a-gainst  me  to  do  it." 

"  Would  none  of  your  neigh-bours 
take  these  pups?"  ask-ed  Charles. 
"  No,"  re-pli-ed  the  boy,  "  they  say  they 
have  all  got  dogs  e-nough,  and  too 
ma-ny.  But  I  don't  want  to  drown  the 
things,  now  that  their  eyes  are  o-pen. 
If  it  must  be  done,  I  on-ly  wish  it  had 
been  done  be-fore." 

Charles  and  Ed-win  con-sult-ed  to- 
geth-er  for  a  few  min-utes  in  a  low  voice, 
and  each  took  all  his  mon-ey  out  of  his 
pock-et.  Charles  ad-van-cing  to-wards 
the  boy,  held  out  the  mon-ey  to  him, 
say-ing,  "If,  in-stead  of  drown-ing  these 
poor  pups  you  will  sell  them  to  us,  my 


THE    FOUR    LITTLE    DOGS.  77 

broth-er  and  I  will  give  you  all  the 
mon-ey  we  have."  "  No, no,"  said  the 
boy,  "  I  will  not  sell  the  pups,  I  am  no 
dog-sel-ler."  "  What,"  ex-claim-ed  Ed- 
win, "  would  you  rath-er  drown  them?" 
"  No,"  re-pli-ed  the  boy,  "  I  don't  want 
to  drown  them,  as  I  told  you  be-fore,  but 
I  will  give  them  to  you  for  noth-ing.  I 
am  not  so  mean  as  to  take  mon-ey  for 
a  few  pups." 

Charles  and  Ed-win  were  ve-ry  glad, 
and  shook  hands  with  the  boy,  who 
im-me-di-ate-ly  took  the  stones  from 
the  necks  of  the  dogs,  and  laid  all  the 
pup-pies  in  the  old  bas-ket  which  he 
gave  to  the  broth-ers,  and  went  home 
with  a  light  heart  sing-ing  all  the 
way. 

Charles  and  Ed-win  were  now  some- 
what at  a  loss  what  to  do  with  the  four 
lit-tle  dogs.  Their  moth-er  did  not  like 
dogs,  hav-ing  nev-er  been  ac-cus-tom- 
ed  to  them,  and  they  had  of-ten  heard 

8 


78  THE  FOUR  LITTLE  DOGS. 

her  say  that  she  would  on  no  ac-count 
have  one  a-bout  the  house.  The  boys 
at  last  con-clu-ded  to  take  the  pup-pies 
in-to  their  fa-vour-ite  woods  back  of  the 
peach  or-chard,  and  build  a  hut  for 
them  to  live  in,  as  Ed-win  said,  "  in  se- 
cret re-tire-ment."  This  they  ac-com- 
plish-ed  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  by 
col-lect-ing  the  fal-len  bran-ches  of 
trees,  which  they  notch-ed  with  their 
hatch-ets,  and  laid  one  up-on  an-oth-er 
as  log-hou-ses  are  built;  fil-ling  in  with 
earth  the  spa-ces  be-tween  the  sticks. 
The  roof  they  made  of  brush-wood,  and 
for  a  door  they  pla-ced  a  large  stone, 
which  reach-ed  al-most  to  the  top  of 
the  en-trance. 

As  soon  as  the  house  was  fin-ish-ed, 
they  put  the  dogs  in-to,  and  thought  they 
look-ed  beau-ti-ful-ly  in  their  new  dwel- 
ling. The  boys  col-lect-ed  leaves  to 
make  a  bed  for  them,  but  next  day 
they  got  some  straw  from  the  barn. 


THE    FOUR    LITTLE    DOGS.  79 

When  Charles  and  Ed-win  went 
home,  they  were  ob-li-ged  to  let  the 
cook  in-to  the  se-cret,  and  they  ob-tain- 
ed  from  her  an  old  sau-cer,  and  a  jug 
of  milk  which  they  stop-ped  with  a  cork 
and  wrap-pedin  a  hand-ker-chief  when 
they  car-ri-ed  it  to  the  dog-house. 
Some  of  the  milk  be-ing  pour-ed  in-to 
the  sau-cer,  the  pup-pies  lap-ped  it 
with  great  de-light;  and  the  boys  knew 
they  could  get  as  much  as  they  want-ed, 
for  milk  was  so  a-bun-dant  in  their  fath- 
er's house,  that  a  large  tub  full  was 
giv-en  ev-e-ry  day  to  the  pigs,  and  there 
was  al-so  plen-ty  of  cold  meat  to  be  had, 
as  soon  as  the  dogs  were  old  e-nough 
to  eat  it. 

The  boys  now  spent  the  great-estpart 
of  their  lei-sure  time  with  the  four  lit-tle 
dogs,  to  whom  they  gave  the  names  of 
Co-lum-bus,  Frank-lin,  Wash-ing-ton, 
and  Jef-fer-son;  which  they  ve-ry  soon 
short-en-ed  in-to  Lum,  Frank,  Wash, 


80  THE    FOUR    LITTLE    DOGS. 

and  Jeff.  They  took  great  de-light  in 
feed-ing  them,  wash-ing  them  in  a  brook 
which  ran  close  by,  and  watch-ing  them 
at  their  play,  which  was  ve-ry  a-mu- 
sing. 

When  they  left  them,  they  al-ways 
put  them  in-to  the  house,  and  pla-ced 
the  stone  be-fore  the  door  that  the 
dogs  might  be  safe  in  their  ab-sence; 
and  when  they  let  them  out,  the  grate- 
ful lit-tle  an-i-mals  jump-ed  and  pran- 
ced round  them,  lick-ing  the  boys'  hands, 
and  show-ing  their  joy  in  a  hun-dred 
dif-fe-rent  ways. 

One  af-ter-noon  when  Charles  and 
Ed-win  went  as  u-su-al  to  car-ry  the 
dogs  their  din-ner,  each  with  a  pa-per 
of  cold  meat  in  his  hand-ker-chief,  they 
found  on  the  stone  at  the  door,  a  large 
rat-tle-snake  coil-ed  up,  with  his  head 
thrust  in-to  the  lit-tle  space  be-tween 
the  top  of  the  stone  and  the  roof,  and 
ga-zing  at  the  pup-pies;  who,  crouch-ed 


THE    FOUR    LITTLE    DOGS.  81 

in  a  cor-ner,  were  trem-bling  and  how- 
ling with  ter-ror. 

At  an-oth-er  time,  per-haps,  the  boys 
would  have  run  a-way  from  the  rat-tle- 
snake,  but  the  i-de-a  of  the  dogs  be-ing 
in  dan-ger,  rous-ed  their  cour-age,  and 
Ed-win  im-me-di-ate-ly  threw  a  stone 
at  him.  It  did  not  hit;  and  the  snake 
turn-ing  his  head  at  the  noise,  shook 
the  rat-ties  on  his  tail  and  his-sedfright- 
ful-ly,  then  dart-ing  out  his  fork-ed 
tongue,  he  sprung  at  Ed-win  and  bit 
him  on  the  back  of  the  hand.  "  Now," 
ex-claim-ed  Ed-win,  "  I  am  bit-ten 
by  a  rat-tle-snake,  and  I  ex-pect  to 
die." 

Charles  snatch-ing  up  a  large  stick, 
struck  the  rep-tile  on  the  head  so  that 
he  fell,  and  the  gal-lant  boy  kil-led  him 
by  re-peat-ing  the  blow.  Ed-win,  for- 
get-ting  for  a  mo-ment  his  wound,  push- 
ed the  stone  from  the  door  of  the  dog- 
house, and  joy-ful-ly  cal-ling  to  the  pup- 


82  THE    FOUR    LITTLE   DOGS. 

pies,  told  them  that  the  snake  was 
dead,  and  they  all  came  run-ning 
out. 

"  Now,  Ed-win,"  said  Charles,  "  we 
must  go  home  as  fast  as  pos-si-ble  and 
see  what  can  be  done  for  your  hand. 
The  bite  of  a  rat-tle-snake  must  be  at- 
tend-ed  to  im-me-diate-ly." 

The  boys  walk-ed  home  as  fast  as 
they  could,  Ed-win  (whose  hand  was 
al-read-y  swel-led  and  dis-col-our-ed, 
and  who  be-gan  to  be  ve-ry  sick)  lean- 
ing on  Charles's  arm  for  sup-port,  and 
all  the  dogs  fol-low-ing  them. 

They  met  at  the  door  their  fath-er, 
(who  was  a  doc-tor,)  and  told  him  what 
had  hap-pen-ed.  He  was  much  shock- 
ed, and  their  moth-er  al-most  fran-tic. 
Dr.  Im-lay,  how-ev-er,  pro-ceed-ed  im- 
me-di-ate-ly  to  ap-ply  rem-e-dies  which 
he  had  known  to  be  suc-cess-ful. 

Ed-win's  arm  was  now  swel-led  up 


THE  FOUR  LITTLE  DOGS.  83 

to  the  should-er,  and  his  fath-er  rub-bed 
it  o-ver,  as  well  as  the  wound,  with 
mer-cu-rial  oint-ment,  and  made  the 
poor  boy  take  large  and  fre-quent 
do-ses  of  o-live  oil.  In  two  hours  he 
grewbet-ter,  the  pains  be-ganto  les-sen, 
the  swel-ling  to  go  down,  and  in 
two  days  he  was  quite  well;  and  du-ring 
this  time  the  four  lit-tle  dogs  (scarce-ly 
no-ti-ced  in  the  gen-e-ral  a-larm  and 
un-eas-i-ness  of  the  fam-i-ly)  had  es-ta- 
blish-ed  them-selves  in  the  house. 

When  Dr.  Im-lay  ask-ed  his  sons  why 
they  had  made  a  se-cret  of  the  pup-pies, 
and  they  re-pli-ed  that  it  was  for  fear 
their  moth-er  would  ob-ject  to  the  dogs 
be-ing  brought  home,  he  made  them 
un-der-stand  that  chil-dren  should  do 
noth-ing  that  they  are  a-fraid  to  tell 
their  pa-rents;  and  that  all  such  plans 
and  plots  gen-e-ral-ly  end  bad-ly,  and 
are  al-ways  dis-cov-er-ed  at  last. 


84  THE    FOUR   LITTLE    DOGS. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Im-lay  to  the 
boys,  "  that  I  do  not  like  to  have  dogs 
a-bout  the  house;  but  as  you  have  sav-ed 
the  lives  of'  these  pup-pies,  (which  ap- 
pear to  be  ve-ry  fine  ones,)  I  would,  had 
I  been  told  of  it,  have  consent-ed  to 
their  be-ing  kept  in  the  old  wood-house 
at  the  end  of  the  yard,  as  we  do  not 
now  make  use  of  it;  and  there  you  might 
have  fed  them  and  play-ed  with  them 
o-pen-ly.  Ed-win's  life  would  not  then 
have  been  en-dan-ger-ed  by  at-tack-ing 
the  rat-tle-snake  in  their  be-half.  And  you 
will  al-ways  find  the  truth  of  what  yonr 
fath-er  has  just  told  you,  that  when-ev- 
er  chil-dren  have  se-crets  from  their 
parents,  some-thing  bad  is  sure  to  be 
the  con-se-quence. 

Charles  and  Ed-win  saw  that  their 
fath-er  and  moth-er  were  right.  They 
were  ve-ry  much  ob-li-ged  to  their  pa- 
rents for  per-mit-ting  them  to  keep  the 


THE   YOUNG    CHEAT.  85 

four  dogs,  who  were  put  at  night  and 
in  bad  weath-er  in-to  the  old  wood- 
house,  and  al-low-ed  to  range  a-bout 
du-ring  the  day,  up-on  con-di-tion  that 
they  were  kept  out  of  doors. 


THE 

YOUNG   CHEAT. 

Ro-sa-bel  Rad-ford  nev-er  could  do 
any  thing  in  a  fair  and  hon-est  man-ner? 
but  was  al-ways  plan-ning  tricks,  and 
try-ing  to  de-ceive. 

When  she  was  sew-ing,  and  her 
moth-er  stuck  a  pin  in  her  work  to  mark 
her  task,  Ro-sa-bel  of-ten  mov-ed  the 
pin  near-er  to  make  the  task  short-er; 
and  when  this  was  dis-cov-er-ed,  and 


86  THE  YOUNG  CHEAT. 

she  was  told  to  sew  a  whole  seam  as  a 
pun-ish-ment,  she  was  so  art-ful  and  so 
per-verse  that  she  did  not  thread  her 
nee-dle,  but  sat  for  an  hour  as  if  she 
was  ve-ry  bu-sy  at  work,  when  all  the 
time  she  was  stick-ing  in  her  nee-dle 
and  draw-ing  it  out  with-out  a-ny  thread 
in  it. 

When  a  book  was  giv-en  her  to  read, 
she  mere-ly  look-ed  at  a  few  words  in 
each  page,  and  then  de-cla-red  that  she 
had  read  the  whole;  and  at  first  ev-e-ry 
one  was  sur-pri-sed  at  her  read-ing  so 
fast,  for  she  pre-tend-ed  she  could  get 
through  a  large  book  in  an  hour.  But 
when  ques-tion-ed,  she  could  not  re-late 
a-ny  thing  that  she  had  read. 

When  she  was  sent  down  in-to 
the  par-lour  to  prac-tise  her  piece 
on  the  pi-an-o,  she  would  play  noth-ing 
while  she  was  a-lone  but  lit-tle  ea-sy 
songs  for  her  own  a-muse-ment,  un-less 
she   heard   a-ny  bo-dy   com-ing;    and 


THE  YOUNG  CHEAT.  87 

then  she  would  re-sume  her  les-son  as 
if  she  had  been  play-ing  it  all  the  time. 

When  she  was  draw-ing,  in-stead  of 
keep-ing  the  mod-el  or  pat-tern  be-fore 
her,  and  look-ing  at  it  ev-e-ry  mo-ment, 
she  used  to  lay  it  under  her  pa-per  to 
trace  the  out-line. 

She  hap-pen-ed  to  find  an  old  wri- 
ting book,  in  which  her  cld-er  sis-ter 
had  sev-e-ral  years  be-fore  writ-ten  her 
French  ex-er-ci-ses,  and  which  had  all 
been  cor-rect-ed  by  her  master.  Ro- 
sa-bel,  who  was  now  learn-ing  French, 
co-pi-ed  se-cret-ly  all  her  ex-er-ci-ses 
out  of  this  book,  and  her  teach-er  (who 
did  not  at  first  find  out  the  trick)  was 
sur-pri-sed  at  their  be-ing  so  good. 

Of  course,  these  things  were  al-ways 
dis-cov-er-ed  at  last,  and  she  was  al- 
ways pun-ish-ed;  but  Ro-sa-bel  was  so 
bad  a  girl  that  she  still  con-tin-ued  the 
same  prac-ti-ces. 

If  she  play-ed  "  blind  man's  buff,"  she 


88  THE  YOUNG  CHEAT. 

al-ways  slip-ped  up  the  hand-ker-chief 
so  that  she  could  see  the  whole  time 
she  was  blind-fold-ed.  If  the  play  was 
u  hot  but-ter-ed  beans,"  when  she  went 
out  of  the  room  with  the  oth-er  child-ren 
that  the  ball  might  be  hid-den,  Ro-sa- 
bel  of-ten  peep-ed  through  the  key-hole 
to  see  where  it  was  put. 

In  play-ing  "how  do  you  like  it," 
when-ev-er  she  was  sent  in-to  the  en- 
try to  wait  till  a  word  was  fix-ed  on  for 
her  to  guess,  she  stood  and  lis-ten-ed 
all  the  time  with  her  ear  close  to  the 
crack  of  the  door. 

Ro-sa-bel  and  her  eld-er  sis-ter  Cath- 
e-rine  had  each  a  little  gar-den.  Cath- 
e-rine  took  great  care  of  hers,  but 
Ro-sa-bel's  was  ne-glect-ed.  Cath-e- 
rine  spent  most  of  her  pock-et-mo-ney 
in  buy-ing  seeds,  and  roots  of  cu-n-ous 
flow-ers  for  her  gar-den.  Ro-sa-bel 
oft-en  dug  up  some  of  these  seeds  and 
roots,  and  plant-ed  them  in  her  own 


THE  YOUIVG  CHEAT.  89 

gar-den;  and  when  they  came  up,  she 
in-sist-ed  that  they  must  have  fal-len 
there  by  ac-ci-dent. 


One  day  her  moth-er  hav-ing  some 
nice  queen  cakes  in  the  house,  gave 
Ro-sa-bel  one  for  her-self,  and  two 
oth-ers  for  her  two  young-er  sis-ters, 
who  were  up  stairs  in  the  play-room. 
In-stead  of  do-ing  so,  Ro-sa-bel-la 
wrap-ped  the  queen  cakes  up  in  her 
hand-ker-chief,  and  put  them  all  in  one 
of  the  pock-ets  of  her  a-pron.  Then 
she  went  to  the  clos-et  in  the  eat-ing 
room,  and  got  two  crack-ers  which  she 
took  up  to  her  sis-ters,  say-ing  that 
they  were  sent  by  her  moth-er.  The 
chil-dren  sup-po-sing  it  to  be  true,  ate 
the  crack-ers  ve-ry  qui-et-ly.  Ro-sa- 
bel  be-ing  ob-li-ged  to  go  back  to 
her  moth-er's  room,  ate  one  of  the  queen 
cakes  there,  and  kept  the  oth-ers  in  her 
pock-et  to  feast  on  in  se-cret,  when  she 


90  THE  YOUNG    CHEAT. 

was  a-lone.  They  had  a  lit-tle  dog  that 
was  ve-ry  fond  of  cakes.  He  sat  down 
be-fore  her,  and  look-ed  up  wish-ful-ly 
in  her  face,  ho-ping  ev-e-ry  mo-ment 
she  would  give  him  a  piece  of  the  one 
she  was  eat-ing.  But  as  she  did  not 
do  it,  and  he  smelt  those  that  were  in 
her  pock-et,  he  jump-ed  up-on  her,  and 
seiz-ing  the  corn-er  of  her  hand-ker- 
chief in  his  mouth,  he  drag-ged  it  out, 
and  dis-play-ed  the  two  cakes  that  she 
had  con-ceal-ed  there,  which  she  ought 
to  have  giv-en  to  her  sis-ters.  Her 
moth-er  did  not  give  Ro-sa-bel  an-oth- 
er  cake  for  a  month. 


One  Sun-day  when  the  chil-dren  were 
all  pre-pa-ring  to  go  to  church,  Ro-sa- 
bel  ob-ser-ved  as  their  bon-nets  lay  on  the 
bed,  that  the  strings  of  her  sis-ter  Mar- 
ga-ret?s  bon-net  were  much  clean-er 
than  her  own.  Be-ing  a-lone,  she  took 
off  and   chan-ged  the   strings,  all  the 


THE  YOUNG  CHEAT.  91 

bon-nets  be-ing  trim-med  with  the  same 
rib-bon.  She  put  her  sis-ter's  clean 
strings  on  her  own  bon-net;  and  her 
own  dir-ty  strings  on  Mar-ga-ret's  ;  and 
she  had  not  can-dour  e-nough  to  con-, 
fess  the  truth,  when  she  heard  her 
moth-er  re-prove  Mar-ga-ret  for  hav- 
ing made  her  bon-net  strings  so  ve-ry 
dir-ty. 

Ha-ving  pin-ned  on  the  strings  in 
great  haste,  one  of  the  pins  stuck  in-to 
Ro-sa-bel's  head  after  she  had  got  to 
church,  and  prick-ed  her  so  se-vere-ly 
all  the  time  that  she  could  scarce-ly 
keep  from  cry-ing;  and  she  was  a-fraid 
to  take  off  the  bon-net  and  fix  it  bet-ter, 
lest  her  moth-er  (who  sat  be-side  her) 
should  find  out  the  truth;  for  bad  chil- 
dren are  al-ways  in  con-stant  dread  of 
dis-cov-e-ry. 

So  she  had  to  bear  the  pin  stick-ing 
in  her  head  the  whole  church-time,  till 
the  end  of  the  last  pray-er;  and  then  in 


92  THE  YOUNG  CHEAT. 

her  wrig-gling  a-bout  with  the  pain,  the 
string  came  off,  and  her  moth-er  pin- 
ned it  on  a-gain;  but  in  so  do-ing  she 
per-ceiv-ed  a  place  where  the  rib-bon 
had  been  join-ed  to  make  it  lon-ger. 

"Why,  Ro-sa-bel,"  said  Mrs.  Rad-ford 
as  they  walk-ed  home,  "  those  are  not 
your  bon-net  strings;  they  are  Mar-ga- 
ret's.  I  re-mem-ber  her  bon-net  be-ing 
the  last  I  trim-med,  and  that  I  join-ed 
the  rib-bon  to  length-en  it  at  the  place 
that  went  un-der  the  chin.  I  see  now 
how  the  strings  on  Mar-ga-ret's  bon-net 
hap-pen  to  be  so  dir-ty.  They  are  in 
re-al-i-ty  yours,  and  you  have  been  at 
your  old  tricks  and  chan-ged  them. 
Now  I  must  tell  you  that  I  in-tend-ed 
next  week  get-ting  new  trim-ming  for 
all  your  bonnets;  but  as  a  pun-ish-ment 
you  shall  wear  the  old  rib-bon  on  yours 
the  re-main-der  of  the  summer." 


One  eve-ning  when  Ro-sa-bel  was  at 


THE  YOUNG  CHEAT.  93 

a  chil-dren's  tea-par-ty,  she  sat  next  to 
a  little  girl  na-med  Ma-ri-anne  Var-land, 
whose  pa-rents  al-ways  drest  her  like 
a  wo-man,  and  who  had  a  pair  of  white 
kid  gloves  on  her  hands.  When  tea 
was  hand-ed  round,  Ma-ri-anne  took  off 
her  gloves  and  laid  them  on  the  chair 
be-hind  her.  Ro-sa-bel  had  of-ten  been 
de-si-rous  of  wear-ing  white  kid  gloves, 
but  her  moth-er  al-ways  re-fu-sed  to  get 
her  a-ny,  say-ing  that  it  was  fool-ish  to 
put  them  on  the  hands  of  chil-dren. 
How-ev-er,  when  Ro-sa-bel  saw  Ma-ri- 
anne  Var-land  with  white  gloves,  she 
felt  a  great-er  de-sire  than  ev-er  to  wear 
the  same.  Ac-cord-ing-ly  she  slip-ped 
them  from  be-hind  Ma-ri-anne  (who 
was  help-ing  her-self  to  her  tea)  and 
sli-ly  put  them  on  her  own  hands,  and 
then  she  sat  eat-ing  muf-fin  and  plum- 
cake  with  them  as  bold-ly  as  if  they 
were  her  own. 

Ma-ri-anne    ob-serv-ed    the    but-ter 

9* 


94  THE  YOUNG  CHEAT. 

run-ning  down  Ro-sa-bel's  fing-ers,  and 
she  won-der-ed  she  chose  to  eat  with 
white  kid  gloves  on;  but  sup-po-sed  it 
was  be-cause  she  had  seen  la-dies  do 
so. 

When  tea  was  o-ver,  Ma-ri-anne 
turn-ed  to  take  up  her  gloves,  but  did 
not  find  them,  and  look-ed  all  a-bout 
in  vain.  She  could  not  im-a-gine  what 
had  be-come  of  them,  as  she  had  only 
laid  them  on  the  chair  be-hind  her;  and 
when  she  ask-ed  Ro-sa-bel  if  she  had 
seen  them,  the  naugh-ty  girl  said  "  no," 
and  help-ed  her  to  look  for  them;  pre- 
tend-ing  to  won-der  where  they  could 
be.  Ma-ri-anne  nev-er  for  a  mo-ment 
sus-pect-ed  that  her  gloves  were  all  the 
time  on  Ro-sa-bel's  hands. 

Ro-sa-bel  wore  Ma-ri-anne's  gloves 
the  whole  eve-ning,  eat-ing  fruit,  cakes, 
su-gar-plurribs,  and  ev-e-ry  thing  else 
with-out  ta-king  them  off,  so  that  they 
were  too  much  soil-ed  ev-er  to  be  worn 


THE    YOUNG    CHEAT.  95 

a-gain.  When  a  lit-tle  girl  re-mark-ed 
to  her  that  she  was  spoil-ing  her  gloves, 
Ro-sa-bel  gave  her  head  a  toss  and 
said,  "  when  those  were  soil-ed  her 
moth-er  could  af-ford  to  buy  her  an-oth- 
er  pair." 

When  the  par-ty  was  o-ver,  Ro-sa- 
bel  con-tri-ved,  ve-ry  cun-ning-ly,  to  slip 
the  dir-ty  gloves  in  Ma-ri-anne  Var- 
iants ret-i-cule,  (which  she  had  laid  for 
a  few  min-utes  on  the  bed  in  the  room 
where  they  had  left  their  bon-nets  and 
shawls,)  sat-is-fied  with  the  plea-sure 
of  hav-ing  worn  them  all  the  eve-ning; 
and  know-ing  that  they  were  now  too 
much  soil-ed  ev-er  to  be  worn  a-gain. 

When  Ma-ri-anne  went  home,  she 
was  sur-pri-sed  to  find  the  gloves  in  her 
bag,  and  to  see  them  in  such  a  dir-ty 
con-di-tion,  when  she  knew  that  she 
had  not  worn  them  her-self,  ex- 
cept for  a  few  min-utes  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the   eve-ning.     While  she 


96  THE    YOUNG    CHEAT. 

was  look-ing  at  them,  some-thing  drop- 
ped out  of  one  of  the  gloves  and  fell 
on  the  floor.  On  ta-king  it  up  it  was 
found  to  be  a  ring  with  a  ci-pher  and 
hair  in  it,  which  Ma-ri-anne's  sis-ter 
re-col-lect-ed  hav-ing  seen  the  day  be- 
fore when  it  was  shown  tohe»r  at  school 
by  Ro-sa-bel,  who  told  her  that  it  was 
the  hair  and  ci-pher  of  her  aunt,  af-ter 
whom  she  was  nam-ed,  and  who  had 
just  giv-en  it  to  her  as  a  new  year's 
pre-sent.  This  ring  Ro-sa-bel  had, 
with-out  know-ing  it,  drawn  off  with  the 
gloves,  and  it  pro-ved  that  she  was  the 
per- son  who  had  worn  and  spoil-ed 
them. 


Next  morn-ing  Ma-ri-anne  en-clo-sed 
the  ring  in  a  pa-per  with  the  dir-ty 
gloves,  and  sent  them  to  Ro-sa-bel  with 
a  note,  say-ing,  "  that  she  made  her  a 
pre-sent  of  the  gloves  that  she  had  worn 
and  spoil-ed  the  night  be-fore,  and  that 


THE    YOUNG    CHEAT. 


97 


she  re-turn-ed  a  ring  which  had  drop- 
ped from  one  of  the  fin-gers. 

That  morn-ing  at  break-fast  Ro-sa- 
bel's  moth-er  not  see-ing  the  new  ring 
on  her  fin-ger  (and  which  she  had  pro- 
mised her  aunt  to  wear  al-ways)  ask-ed 
her  where  it  was.  Ro-sa-bel  gues-sed 
how  she  had  lost  it,  but  be-ing  a-fraid 
to  ex-plain,  said  that  it  was  safe  in  her 
draw-er  up  stairs.  She  then  went  to 
school;  and  soon  af-ter,  the  par-eel  ar- 
rived with  Ma-ri-anne  Var-land's  note. 
Mrs.  Rad-lord  o-pen-ed  them  and  was 
much  sur-pri-sed. 

When  Ro-sa-bel  came  home,  her 
moth-er  show-ed  her  the  gloves  and 
ring,  and  made  her  con-fess  the  whole. 
Mrs.  Rad-ford's  chil-dren  had  all 
been  in-vi-ted  to  a  lit-tle  dance  which 
was  to  take  place  next  week  at  the 
house  of  ala-dy  in  the  neigh-bour-hood, 
but  she  now  told  Ro-sa-bel  that  as  a 
pun-ish-ment  for  ta-king  and  wear-ing 


98  THE  CRANBERRY    TARTS. 

Ma-ri-anne's  gloves,  she  would  not  per- 
mit her  to  ac-com-pany  her  sis-ters. 
Ro-sa-bel  cried  very  much  at  be-ing 
ob-li-ged  to  stay  at  home  by  her-self, 
and  her  moth-er  ho-ped  that  this  les- 
son would  cure  her  of  cheat-ing  and 
de-ceiv-ing.  • 

But  it  was  all  in  vain.  Ro-sa-bel  nev- 
er left  off  these  faults,  and  at  last  ev-e-ry 
bo-dy  was  con-tin-u-al-ly  watch-ing 
her  lest  she  should  play  some  trick;  and 
no-bo-dy  would  be-lieve  a  word  she 
said.  All  her  young  friends  gave  her 
up,  their  pa-rents  fear-ing  that  they 
would  be  in-ju-red  by  the  ex-am-ple  of 
so  bad  a  girl. 


THE 

CRANBERRY    TARTS. 

Lit-tle  Fan-ny  Cas-sin  was  ex-treme- 
ly  fond  of  pies  and  pud-dings,  as  al-most 


THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS*  99 

all  chil-dren  are,  and  at  her  fath-er's 
house  they  had  some-thing  of  the  kind 
ev-e-ry  day  on  the  din-ner  ta-ble.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Cas-sin  liv-ed  a  few  miles 
from  the  cit-y,  and  Fan-ny  was  once  in- 
vi-ted  by  Mrs.  Den-ham,  a  friend  of  the 
fam-i-ly,  to  spend  a  week  with  her  at 
her  house  in  town. 

Mrs.  Den-ham  had  no  daugh-ter. 
Her  on-ly  child  was  a  son  cal-led  Har- 
ry, who  was  a  ve-ry  good  qui-et  boy, 
and  not  at  all  rough  or  bois-te-rous  with 
lit-tle  girls;  so  he  and  Fan-ny  Cas-sin 
play-ed  ve-ry  well  to-geth-er.  He  had 
a  great  ma-ny  lit-tle  books,  and  while 
he  was  at  school  Fan-ny  had  suf-fi-cient 
a-muse-ment  in  read-ing  them,  and  in 
play-ing  with  her  doll,  which  she  had 
brought  with  her. 

The  first  day  at  din-ner,  Har-ry,  to 
the  sur-prise  of  Fan-ny,  left  the  ta-ble 
as  soon  as  he  was  done  eat-ing  his  meat 
and  po-ta-toes,  but  she  sup-po-sed  he 
was  in  a  hur-ry  to  go  to  school.     Mrs. 


100  THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS. 

Den-ham  said  to  her,  "  Fan-ny,  why  do 
you  still  sit?"  Fan-ny  ve-ry  in-no-cent- 
ly  re-plied,  "  I  am  wait-ing  for  the  pie." 
"  Oh!"  said  Mrs.  Den-ham,  "  we  have 
no  pie  to-day."  "  Per-haps  then  you 
have  pud-ding,"  saidlit-tle  Fan-ny,  who 
was  on-ly  five  years  old.  "  No,"  an- 
swer-ed  Mrs.  Den-ham,  "  nei-ther  pie 
nor  pud-ding.  We  sel-dom  have  these 
things." 

Fan-ny  was  sor-ry  to  hear  this;  but 
she  had  an  ex-cel-lent  dis-po-si-tion, 
and  bore  her  dis-ap-point-ment  ve-ry 
well;  good  hu-mour-ed-ly  leaA'-ing  the 
ta-ble  and  go-ing  in-to  the  front  par-lour, 
where  she  found  Har-ry,  with  whom  she 
play-ed  a  lit-tle  be-fore  he  went  to 
school. 

The  next  day,  and  the  next,  Fan-ny 
had  still  some  hope  of  pie;  but  it  was 
not  re-al-i-sed,  as  nei-ther  pie  nor  pud- 
ding ap-pear-ed. 

On  the  sixth  day  of  her  vis-it,  she  was 
de-light-ed  to  hear  Mrs.  Den-ham  tell 


THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS.  101 

the  cook  to  stew  some  cran-ber-ries,  as 
she  was  go-ing  her-self  to  make  a  few 
tarts.  This  was  ve-ry  good  news  to 
Fan-ny,  who,  when  she  saw  Mrs.  Den- 
ham  come  out  of  the  store-room,  ask- 
ed her  with  a  smi-ling  face,  if  she  might 
see  her  make  the  tarts. 

To  this  Mrs.  Den-ham  as-sent-ed, 
and  Fan-ny  ac-com-pa-ni-ed  her  to  the 
kitch-en,  where  she  stood  by  the  ta-ble 
with  at-ten-tive  looks,  while  Mrs.  Den- 
ham  sift-ed  the  flour,  rol-led  in  the  but- 
ter, and  made  the  paste,  which  was  to 
be  ba-ked  in  tin  pat-ty-pans  of  the  ve-ry 
smal-lest  size.  Fan-ny  was  per-mit-ted 
to  but-ter  these  pans  to  pre-vent  the 
paste  from  stick-ing  to  the  tin;  and  this 
she  did  ve-ry  nice-ly. 

Then  the  bowl  of  stew-ed  cran-ber- 
ries  was  brought  from  the  cel-lar  where 
it  had  been  set  to  cool,  and  Mrs. 
Den-ham  put  the  fruit  in-to  the  crust, 
sprink-ling  the  top  with  su-gar.  "  How 
10 


102  THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS. 

ve-ry  nice  these  tarts  will  be,"  said 
Fan-ny." 

She  was  glad  when  she  was  cal-led 
to  din-ner.  "  Now,"  thought  she,  "  we 
shall  at  last  have  a  des-sert."  She  did 
not  eat  as'  much  meat  as  u-su-al,  that 
she  might  have  the  bet-ter  rel-ish  for 
the  cran-ber-ry  tarts  af-ter-wards,  and 
she  saw  the  dish  of  roast  lamb  ta-ken 
a-way  with  great  joy.  But  on  look- 
ing to-wards  the  side-board,  she  still 
per-ceiv-ed  no  ap-pear-ance  of  des-sert 
plates.  \ 

"  I  sup-pose,  Fan-ny,"  said  Mrs. 
Den-ham,  "  you  are  ex-pect-ing  the 
tarts  you  saw  me  make  this  morn-ing?" 
"  Yes,  mad-am,"  an-swer-ed  Fan-ny. 
"  Why,"  re-su-med  Mrs.  Den-ham,  "  I 
ex-pect  some  friends  to  a  lit-tle  sup-per 
this  eve-ning,and  we  are  then  go-ing  to 
have  the  tarts.  It  was  for  that  pur-pose 
I  made  them." 

Poor  Fan-ny  look-ed  much  dis-ap- 
point-ed. 


THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS.  103 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Den-ham,  "  an 
En-glish  gen-tle-man  is  to  bring  his  son 
here,  a  boy  a-bout  fif-teen,  who  is  won- 
der-ful-ly  clev-er  at  per-form-ing  dif-fe- 
rent  cha-rac-ters  and  sing-ing  a-mu-sing 
songs.  We  have  in-vi-ted  some  of  our 
most  in-ti-mate  friends  to  hear  him; 
and  as  Har-ry  is  to  sit  up  on  the  oc-ca- 
sion,  you  may  do  the  same." 

"  And  shall  I  have  any  sup-per?"  ask- 
ed Fan-ny.  "  Yes,"  re-plied  Mr.  Den- 
ham,  "  I  prom-ise  you  that  you  shall." 

u  And  Har-ry  too?"  said  Fan-ny. 

"  Yes,  Har-ry  too,"  an-swer-ed  Mr. 
Denham. 


Eve-ning  came;  Mrs.  Den-ham's  par- 
lours were  light-ed  up,  and  the  fold-ing 
doors  clo-sed  be-tween  them.  A-bout 
a  do-zen  se-lect  friends  ar-ri-ved,  and 
last  came  the  En-glish  gen-tle-man  and 
his  son,  a  ve-ry  hand-some  and  un-com- 
mon-ly  smart  boy.  Ear-ly  in  the  eve- 
ning, they  had  sent  a  box  of  dres-ses 


104  THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS. 

which  was  car-ried  in-to  the  back  par- 
!  our,  the  large  door  of  which  was  kept 
shut. 

The  En-glish  boy  re-ti-red  to  the  back 
par-lour  to  change  his  clothes,  and  soon 
af-ter  threw  o-pen  the  fold-ing  doors, 
and  ap-pear-ed  in  the  dress  of  a  Span- 
ish goat-herd  with  a  guit-ar  in  his  hand, 
to  which  he  sung  and  dan-ced  ve-ry 
fine-ly.  Next  he  re-pre-sent-ed  a  Scotch 
bag-pi-per,  and  sung  an  ex-cel-lent 
Scotch  song.  Af-ter  this,  he  per-form- 
ed  an  old  French  dan-cing  mas-ter  with 
a  fid-die,  and  fin-ish-ed  by  com-ing  out 
in  the  dress  of  a  sail-or,  in  which  he 
sung  sev-e-ral  of  the  best  sea-songs,  and 
dan-ced  a  horn-pipe  with  a  rat-tan  in 
his  hand. 

All  the  com-pa-ny  were  high-ly  pleas- 
ed, and  Fan-ny  and  Har-ry  were  so 
much  a-mu-sed,  that  they  kept  a-wake 
all  the  eve-ning,  sit -ting  side  by  side 
on  two  lit-tle  stools  in  one  of  the  cor- 
ners. 


THE    CRANBERRY  TARTS.  105 

The  vis-it-ers  were  all  gone  at  ten  o'- 
clock, ex-cept  two  la-dies  and  two  gen- 
tle-men, who  had  been  in-vi-ted  with 
the  En-glish-man  and  his  son  to  stay  to 
sup-per. 

The  sup-per  ta-ble  was  set  out  in  the 
par-lour  with  cold  ham  and  chick-en 
sal-lad,  and  a  dish  of  cran-berry  tarts, 
which  Fan-ny  at  last  wel-com-ed  with 
long-ing  eyes;  for  be-sides  her  fond-ness 
for  such  things,  she  was  real-ly  hun- 
gry. 

"  We  will  not  give  Fan-ny  and  Har- 
ry a-ny  ham  or  chick-en  sal-lad,"  said 
Mrs.  Den-ham,  "  as  meat  or  poul-try 
may  not  a-gree  with  them  at  this  late 
hour;  but  they  shall  each  have  a  crack- 
er and  a  tart."  Fan-ny  now  felt  ve-ry 
hap-py,  for  hav-ing  been  near  a  week 
with-out  pie  or  pud-ding,  she  thought 
the  tart  would  taste  dou-bly  nice. 

Her  bis-cuit  was  soon  eat-en,  and 
then  Mrs.  Den-ham  put  a  tart  on  Fan- 


106       .  THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS. 

ny's  plate;  when  Mrs.  Ben-son,  a  la-dy 
who  hap-pen-ed  to  be  seat-ed  be-tween 
the  two  chil-dren,  said,  "  I  should  think 
half  a  tart  quite  suf-fl-cient  for  a  lit-tle 
girl  or  boy  at  ten  o'clock  at  night;  so  if 
you  please,  Mrs.  Den-ham,  I  will  di-vide 
this  be-tween  Miss  Fan-ny  and  Mas-ter 
Har-ry."  Mrs.  Ben-son  cut  the  tart  in 
half,  and  put  one  part  on  Fan-ny's  plate 
and  the  oth-er  on  Har-ry's.  Har-ry, 
who  was  a  year  old-er  than  Fan-ny,  and 
not  quite  so  fond  of  pas-try,  ate  his 
morsel  with-out  feel-ing  much  dis-ap- 
point-ed,  though  he  thought  Mrs. 
Ben-son  a  ve-ry  im-per-ti-nent  wom-an 
for  ta-king  such  a  li-ber-ty  at  an-oth-er 
per-son's  ta-ble;  and  so  she  cer-tain-ly 
was;  and  he  did  not  like  her  a-ny  the 
bet-ter  when  she  con-tin-u-ed  talk-ing 
a-bout  the  im-pro-pri-e-ty  of  al-low-ing 
chil-dren  to  eat  pies  and  pud-ding,  de- 
ck-ring that  she  nev-er  suf-fer-ed  hers 
to  taste  a  mouth-ful  of  ei-ther. 


THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS.  107 

Poor  lit-tle  Fan-ny  was  so  dis-ap- 
point-ed  at  get-ting  on-ly  the  half  of  a 
ve-ry  small  tart,  af-ter  allherex-pec-ta- 
tion,  that  she  felt  a  chok-ing  in  her 
throat,  while  her  lips  trem-bled  and  the 
tears  came  in-to  her  eyes,  and  for  a 
mo-ment  she  was  al-most  cer-tain  that 
her  heart  was  break-ing.  But  she  was 
a  ve-ry  good  girl,  and  she  tried  so  hard 
to  keep  from  cry-ing  be-fore  the  com- 
pany, that  she  suc-ceed-ed. 

Mr.  Den-ham  ob-serv-ed  her,  and  felt 
much  pit-y  for  the  poor  lit-tle  girl,  to 
whom  the  loss  of  half  a  tart  seem-ed  of 
as  much  con-se-quence  as  the  loss  of  a 
hun-dred  dol-lars  would  be  to  a  grown 
per-son;  and  he  de-ter-min-ed  to  re-ward 
her  for  her  self-com-mand  in  re-strain- 
ing her-self  from  cry-ing. 

She  ate  her  half  tart,  and  on  be-ing 
told  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  go  to-bed 
she  smooth-ed  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  went  ve-ry  pleas-ant-ly  to  kiss  Mr. 


108  THE    CRANBERRY    TARTS. 

and  Mrs.  Den-ham,  and  to  bid  them 
good  night.  When  she  came  to  Mr. 
Den-ham  he  kis-sed  her,  and  put  in-to 
her  hand  a  whole  tart  from  the  dish, 
say-ing,  "  Fan-ny,  as  you  have  borne 
the  loss  of  half  your  first  tart  so  well, 
you  shall  now  have  a  whole  one,  and  so 
shall  Har-ry.  Take  them  up  stairs  with 
you,  and  eat  them  there." 

Fan-ny  was  ve-ry  thank-ful  to  Mr. 
Den-ham,  and  hav-ing  eat-en  her  tart 
she  went  to-bed  quite  hap-py. 

Next  day,  the  time  of  her  vis-it  hav- 
ing ex-pi-red,  her  fath-er  came  to  town 
for  her  and  took  her  home;  and  when 
the  hol-i-days  ar-ri-ved,  he  in-sist-ed  on 
Har-ry  spend-ing  them  at  his  house. 


THE    END. 


iSR 


